THE   RIGHT  STUFF 


ROHI.V   PROPOSES 


THE  RIGHT  STUFF 


BY 


IAN 


WITH   FRONTISPIECE   BY 
JAMES   MONTGOMERY  FLAGG 


H 


DR.  JOHNSON.  Oatmeal,  sir  ?  The  food  of  horses 
in  England  and  of  men  in  Scotland  ! 

BOSWELL  (roused  at  last).  And  where,  sir,  will 
you  find  such  horses  —  or  such  men  ? 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

Cftc  liitcrsibc  press 
1910 


COPYRIGHT,   1910,   BY  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  April,  IQIQ 


PREFACE 

I  CONSIDER  it  my  duty,  as  author  of  this  volume,  to 
buttonhole  the  reader  on  the  threshold  of  the  story,  and 
caution  him.  This  done,  he  goes  inside  under  no  illusions 
and  at  his  own  risk. 

The  Right  Stuff  was  originally  written  for  English  and 
Scottish  readers,  the  author  (an  individual  of  a  retiring 
and  unsanguine  disposition)  never  having  considered  the 
possibility  of  his  work  falling  into  the  hands  of  a  larger 
and  less  parochial  public.  Under  these  circumstances 
American  readers  are  warned  that :  — 

1.  The  hero  is  a  Scotsman,  and  he  and  his  relatives 
occasionally  revert  to  a  dialect  and  idiom  which,  despite 
the  advent  of  Mr.  Harry  Lauder,  is  not  yet  so  universally 
prevalent  on  these  shores  as  it  doubtless  deserves  (and 
expects)  to  be. 

2.  Many  of  the  incidents  are  of  a  particularly  local  and 
British  character.  They  depict  the  habits  and  customs  of 
the  average  upper-class  Briton  in  a  fashion  which  char- 
acteristically takes  for  granted  the  rather  large  propo- 
sition that  the  rest  of  the  civilised  world  handles  such 
things  as  electioneering  and  game-shooting  in  precisely 
the  same  manner  as  John  Bull.  Consequently  the  narra- 
tive will  be  found  frequently  to  diverge  from  the  paths  of 


213SS23 


vi  Preface     . 

bald  and  obvious  platitude  into  the  trackless  byways  of 
technical  incomprehensibility. 

3.  The  scene  is  laid  entirely  in  Great  Britain.  The 
Englishman  likes  to  read  about  localities  he  knows,  so 
that  if  the  villain  abducts  the  heroine  in  a  motor-car 
in  the  centre  of  London  —  say  Piccadilly  Circus  —  the 
reader  may  feel  sure  of  his  ground  while  he  accompa- 
nies the  hero  in  a  headlong  pursuit  in  another  car  down 
Regent  Street  or  Shaftesbury  Avenue.  (N.  B.  No  such 
incident  occurs  in  this  book.) 

For  all  these  blemishes  the  author  expresses  regret. 
In  extenuation  he  urges  that  although  the  subject-matter 
may  be  lacking  in  originality,  the  style  open  to  criticism, 
and  the  syntax  shaky,  the  spelling  and  punctuation  are 
(thanks  to  the  printer  and  proof-reader)  unexceptionable. 

He  also  ventures  to  believe  that  men  and  women  and 
children  —  especially  children  —  are  much  the  same  all 
the  world  over,  and  that  a  simple  study  of  human  nature, 
set  down  without  malice,  illustrated  by  pictures  of  the 
common  joys  and  sorrows  of  life,  and  interwoven  with  the 
ancient  and  unoriginal  but  never-dying  theme  of  the  way 
of  a  man  with  a  maid,  may  meet  with  as  sympathetic  and 
indulgent  an  audience  on  the  west  side  of  the  Atlantic  as 
it  has  done  on  the  east. 

IAN  HAY. 

Edinburgh,  January,  1910. 


BOOK  ONE 

RAW    MATERIAL 

CHAP.  PAOE 

i.  "OATMEAL  AND  THE  SHORTER  CATECHISM".        .        .  3 

II.    INTRODUCES    A    PILLAR    OP    STATE    AND    THE    APPURTE- 
NANCES THEREOF 22 

in.  "ANENT" 38 

IV.    A  TRIAL  TRIP 46 

V.    ROBIN   ON  DUTY 66 

VI.    ROBIN  OFF  DUTY 76 

VII.    A  DISSOLUTION   OF   PARTNERSHIP              ....  96 

VIII.     OF   A    PIT   THAT   WAS   DIGGED,    AND    WHO    FELL    INTO    IT  117 

IX.     THE    POLICY   OF   THE    CLOSED   DOOR          ....  147 

x.  ROBIN'S  WAY  OF  DOING  IT 161 


BOOK  TWO 

THE    FINISHED   ARTICLE 

XI.    A  MISFIRE 179 

XII.    THE    COMPLEAT  ANGLER 216 

XIII.  A   HOSTAGE   TO   FORTUNE 236 

XIV.  "TO  DIE WILL  BE  AN  AWFULLY  BIG  ADVENTURE"        .  257 

XV.    TWO   BATTLES 271 

xvi.   "QUI  PERD,  QAQNE" 282 

xvn.   IN  WHICH  ALL'S  RIGHT  WITH  THE  WORLD    .        .        .  299 

XVIII.    A  PROPHET  IN  HIS   OWN   COUNTRY  ,  310 


BOOK   ONE. 

HAW    MATERIAL. 


CHAPTER  ONE. 

/ 

OATMEAL  AND  THE  SHORTER  CATECHISM. 

THE  first  and  most-serious-but-one  ordeal  in  the 
life  of  Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce  —  so  Robert 
Chalmers  himself  informed  me  years  afterwards 
— was  the  examination  for  the  Bursary  which 
he  gained  at  Edinburgh  University.  A  bursary 
is  what  an  English  undergraduate  would  call 
a  "  Schol."  (Imagine  a  Scottish  student  talking 
about  a  "Burse"!) 

Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce  arrived  in  Edin- 
burgh pretty  •  evenly  divided  between  helpless 
stupefaction  at  the  sight  of  a  great  city  and 
stern  determination  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by 
the  inhabitants  thereof.  His  fears  were  not  as 
deep-seated  as  those  of  Tom  Pinch  on  a  similar 
occasion, — he,  it  will  be  remembered,  suffered 
severe  qualms  from  his  familiarity  with  certain 
rural  traditions  concerning  the  composition  of 
London  pies,  —  but  he  was  far  from  happy t 


4  Raw  Material 

He  had  never  slept  away  from  his  native  hill- 
side before ;  he  had  never  seen  a  town  possessing 
more  than  three  thousand  inhabitants ;  and  he 
had  only  once  travelled  in  a  train. 

Moreover,  he  was  proceeding  to  an  inquisition 
which  would  decide  once  and  for  all  whether 
he  was  to  go  forth  and  conquer  the  world  with 
a  university  education  behind  him,  or  go  back 
to  the  plough  and  sup  porridge  for  the  rest  of 
his  life.  To-morrow  he  was  to  have  his  op- 
portunity, and  the  consideration  of  how  that 
opportunity  could  best  be  gripped  and  brought 
to  the  ground  blinded  Robin  even  to  the 
wonders  of  the  Forth  Bridge. 

He  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  railway  carriage, 
passing  in  review  the  means  of  conquest  at  his 
disposal.  His  actual  stock  of  scholarship,  he 
knew,  was  well  up  to  the  required  standard  : 
he  was  as  letter  perfect  in  Latin,  Greek,  Mathe- 
matics, and  Literature  as  hard  study  and  re- 
morseless coaching  could  make  him.  Every  thing- 
needful  was  in  his  head — but  could  he  get  it 
out  again  ?  That  was  the  question.  The  roaring 
world  in  which  he  would  find  himself,  the  strange 

'  O 

examination-room,  the  quizzing  professors — would 
these  combine  with  his  native  shyness  to  sea] 
the  lips  and  cramp  the  pen  of  Robert  Chalmers 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     5 

Fordyce  ?  No — a  thousand  times  no  !  He  would 
win  through  !  Eobert  set  his  teeth,  braced  him- 
self, and  kicked  the  man  opposite. 

He  apologised,  attributing  the  discourtesy  to 
the  length  of  his  legs — he  stood  about  six  feet 
three — and  smiled  so  largely  and  benignantly, 
that  the  Man  Opposite,  who  had  intended  to 
be  thoroughly  disagreeable,  melted  at  once,  and 
said  it  was  the  fault  of  the  Company  for  pro- 
viding such  restricted  accommodation,  and  gave 
Robert  The  Scotsman  to  read. 

Robert  thanked  him,  and,  effacing  himself 
behind  TJie  Scotsman, — though,  for  all  the  in- 
struction or  edification  that  his  present  frame 
of  mind  permitted  him  to  extract  from  that 
coping-stone  of  Scottish  journalism,  he  might  as 
well  have  been  reading  the  Koran, — returned  to 
his  thoughts.  He  collated  in  his  mind  the  pieces 
of  advice  which  had  been  bestowed  upon  him  by 
his  elders  and  betters  before  his  departure.  ID 
brief,  their  collective  wisdom  came  to  this : — 

His  father  had  bidden  him — 

(a)  To  address  all  professors  with  whom  he 
might  come  in  contact  as  "  Sir " ; 

(6)  To  arrive  at  the  Examination  each  morning 
at  least  five  minutes  before  the  adver- 
tised time ; 


6  Raw  Material 

(c)  To  refrain  from  lending  money  to,  or 
otherwise  countenancing  the  advances 
of,  persons  of  insinuating  address  who 
would  doubtless  accost  him  in  the 
streets  of  Edinburgh. 

The  Dominie  had  said — 

"  When  in  doubt,  mind  that  practically  every- 
thing in  an  examination  governs  the  subjunctive. 

"If  there  is  a  viva  voce,  be  sure  and  speak 
up  and  give  your  answers  as  though  you  were 
sure  of  them.  They  may  be  wrong,  but  on  the 
other  hand  they  may  be  right.  Anyway,  the 
one  thing  the  examiners  will  not  thole  is  a 
body  that  dithers. 

"  Take  a  last  keek  at  that  Proposition — they 
may  call  them  Theorems,  though  —  about  the 
Square  on  the  Hypotenuse.  It  hasn't  been  set 
for  four  years. 

"  If  you  are  given  a  piece  of  Greek  Testament 
to  translate,  for  mercy's  sake  do  not  be  too  glib. 
Dinna  translate  a  thing  until  you  are  sure  it  is 
there.  They  have  an  unholy  habit  of  leaving 
out  a  couple  of  verses  some  place  in  the  middle, 
and  you're  just  the  one  to  tumble  head-first  into 
the  lacuna.  (I  ken  ye,  Robbie  !) 

"And  whatever  ye  do,  just  bear  in  mind  it's 
your  only  chance,  and  grup  on  tae  it !  Post  est 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     7 

occasio  calva,  laddie !  And  dinna  disappoint  an 
auld  man  that  has  taught  ye  all  he  kens 
himsel' ! " 

Much  of  his  mother's  advice  was  of  a  kind 
that  could  not  be  expressed  so  concisely,  but  two 
salient  items  remained  fixed  in  Robert's  mind  : — 

"If  ye  canna  think  o'  the  richt  word,  pit  up  a 
bit  prayer. 

"  For  ony  sake  see  that  your  collar  is  speckless 
a'  the  time." 

Robert's  first  impressions  of  Edinburgh  were 
disappointing.  Though  extensive  enough,  the 
city  was  not  so  great  or  so  imposing  as  he  had 
expected.  It  was  entirely  roofed  with  glass, — a 
provision  which,  though  doubtless  advantageous 
in  wet  weather,  militated  against  an  adequate 
supply  of  sunlight  and  fresh  air.  The  shops,  of 
which  Robin  had  heard  so  much,  were  few  in 
number  ;  and  the  goods  displayed  therein  (mainly 
food  and  drink,  newspapers  and  tobacco)  com- 
pared unfavourably  in  point  of  variety  with 
those  in  the  window  of  Malcolm  M'Whiston, 
the  "  merchant "  at  home.  The  inhabitants  all 
appeared  to  be  in  a  desperate  hurry,  and  the 
noise  of  the  trains,  which  blocked  every 
thoroughfare,  was  deafening.  Robert  Chalmers 
was  just  beginning  to  feel  thoroughly  dis- 


8  Raw  Material 

appointed  with  the  Scottish  capital,  when  it 
occurred  to  him  to  mount  a  flight  of  stairs 
which  presented  itself  to  his  view  and  gave 
promise  of  a  second  storey  at  least.  When  he 
reached  the  top  he  found  he  had  judged  Edin- 
burgh too  hastily.  There  was  some  more  of  it. 

His  horizon  thus  suddenly  enlarged,  Robert 
Chalmers  Fordyce  began  to  take  in  his  sur- 
roundings. He  now  found  himself  in  a  great 
street,  with  imposing  buildings  on  one  side  and 
a  green  valley  on  the  other.  On  the  far  side 
of  the  valley  the  ground  ran  steeply  upward 
to  an  eminence  crowded  thickly  with  houses  and 
topped  by  a  mighty  castle. 

The  street  was  alive  with  all  sorts  of  absorb- 
ingly interesting  traffic ;  but  for  the  present 
Robert  was  chiefly  concerned  with  the  Cable 
Cars.  It  was  upon  one  of  these  majestic  vehicles, 
which  moved  down  the  street  unassisted  by  any 
apparent  human  or  equine  agency,  that  he  had 
been  bidden  to  ride  to  his  destination.  He  was 
not  to  take  the  first  that  came  along,  nor  yet 
the  second  —  they  went  to  various  places,  it 
seemed ;  and  if  you  were  taken  to  the  wrong 
one  you  had  to  pay  just  the  same — but  was  to 
scan  them  until  he  espied  one  marked  "  Gorgie." 
This  would  carry  him  down  the  Dairy  Road,  and 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     9 

would  ultimately  pass  the  residence  of  Elspeth 
M'Kerrow,  a  decent  widow  woman,  whose  late 
husband's  brother  had  "  married  on  "  a  connection 
of  Robert's  mother.  Here  he  was  to  lodge. 

At  first  sight  the  cars  appeared  to  be  labelled 
with  nothing  but  Cocoa  and  Whisky  and  Em- 
pire Palaces  of  Varieties  Open  Every  Evening ; 
but  a  little  perseverance  discovered  a  narrow 
strip  of  valuable  information  painted  along  the 
side  of  each  car.  The  first  that  caught  our 
friend's  eye  was  "  Pilrig  and  Braid  Hills  Road." 
That  would  not  do.  Then  came  another — 
"  Murray  field,  Hay  market,  and  Nether  Liberton." 
Another  blank !  Then,  "  Marchmont  Road  and 
Churchill."  Foiled  again,  Robert  was  beginning 
to  feel  a  little  sceptical  as  to  the  actual  exist- 
ence of  the  Dairy  Road,  when  a  car  drew  up 
opposite  to  him  labelled  "Pilrig  and  Gorgie." 
It  was  going  in  the  right  direction  too,  for  his 
father  had  warned  him  that  his  destination  lay 
to  the  west  of  the  town ;  and  you  can  trust  a 
Scotsman  to  know  the  points  of  the  compass 
with  his  eyes  shut.  (They  even  talk  of  a  man 
sitting  on  the  north  or  south  side  of  his  own 
fireplace. ) 

Robert  clambered  on  to  the  top  of  this  car, 
and  presently  found  himself  confronted  by  a 


io  Raw  Material 

gentleman — splendid  in  appearance  but  of  homely 
speech — who  waved  bundles  of  tickets  in  his 
face,  and  inquired  tersely — 

"  Penny  or  tippeny  ?  or  transfair  ? " 

"I  am  seeking  the  Dairy  Road,"  said  Robert 
cautiously. 

"Which  end  o't?" 

"  I  couldna  say." 

"  Ca'  it  a  penny,"  said  the  conductor. 

Robert,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  beaten 
down  his  opponent  to  the  lowest  possible  figure, 
produced  the  coin  from  his  pocket.  (It  was 
just  as  well  that  the  man  had  not  demanded 
a  larger  sum,  for  Robert's  more  precious  cur- 
rency was  concealed  in  a  place  only  accessible 
to  partial  disrobement.)  The  gorgeous  man 
carelessly  snapped  a  ticket  out  of  one  of  the 
bundles,  and  having  first  punched  a  hole  in  it 
with  an  ingenious  instrument  that  gave  forth 
sounds  of  music,  handed  it  to  Robert  in  ex- 
change for  the  penny.  He  was  a  saturnine 
man,  but  he  smiled  a  little  later  when  Robert, 
mindful  of  the  fate  of  his  railway-ticket  at  the 
last  station  but  one,  airily  attempted  to  give 
up  his  car- ticket  in  similar  fashion  on  alighting 
at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

The  greater  part  of  the  next  four  days  was 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     n 

spent  by  our  friend  in  an  examination-room,  into 
which  we,  more  fortunate,  need  not  attempt  to 
follow  him.  Robert  diligently  answered  every 
question,  writing  at  the  foot  of  each  sheet  of 
his  neat  manuscript,  "  More  on  the  next  page," 
in  case  the  examiner  should  be  a  careless  fellow 
and  imagine  that  Bobert  had  finished  when  he 
had  not.  Bobert  was  not  the  man  to  leave 
anything  to  chance,  or  to  such  unsafe  abbrevi- 
ations as  P.T.O. 

Outside  the  examination-room  he  devoted  most 
of  the  time  that  he  could  spare  from  preparation 
for  the  next  paper  to  a  systematic  exploration 
of  Edinburgh.  He  did  the  thing  as  thoroughly 
as  possible,  for  he  knew  well  that  he  might 
never  spend  four  days  in  a  large  town  again. 

He  began  by  climbing  the  Calton  Hill.  He 
remained  at  the  summit  quite  a  long  time,  con- 
structing a  rough  bird's-eye  plan  of  the  streets 
and  buildings  below  him ;  and  having  descended 
to  earth,  proceeded  on  a  series  of  voyages  of 
discovery. 

He  regarded  the  exterior  of  Parliament  House 
with  intense  interest,  for  he  was  a  debater  by 
instinct  and  upbringing.  St  Giles'  he  passed 
by  without  enthusiasm — he  was  a  member  of 
the  Free  Kirk — and  St  Mary's  Cathedral  struck 


12  Raw  Material 

him  as  being  unduly  magnificent  to  be  the 
property  of  such  a  small  and  pernicious  sect  as 
the  Episcopalians.  The  Post  Office  and  other 
great  buildings  struck  him  dumb;  and  he 
hastened  past  the  theatres  with  averted  eyes, 
for  he  had  it  upon  unimpeachable  authority 
that  the  devil  resided  there. 

He  knew  no  one  in  Edinburgh  save  Elspeth 
M'Kerrow.  However,  he  made  another  friend — 
to  wit,  one  Hector  MacPherson,  a  gigantic  High- 
land policeman,  who  controlled  the  traffic  with 
incredible  skill  at  a  place  where  several  ways 
met.  The  said  Hector  stood  beneath  the  shadow 
of  a  great  lamp -post,  and  whenever  a  vehicle 
drove  past  one  side  of  him,  Hector  relentlessly 
called  it  back  and  made  it  go  on  the  other. 
Their  acquaintance  began  with  the  entire  efface- 
ment  of  Robert's  features  by  the  palm  of 
Hector's  hand,  which  was  suddenly  extended 
across  the  thoroughfare  for  traffic  -  regulating 
purposes,  with  the  result  that  Robert,  who  was 
plunged  in  thought  at  the  time,  ran  his  nose 
right  into  the  centre  of  it.  The  ejaculation  to 
which  each  gave  vent  at  the  moment  of  impact 
revealed  to  both  that  they  were  from  the  same 
part  of  the  country,  and  thereafter  Hector 
MacPherson  became  Robert's  adviser  -  in  -  chief 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     13 

throughout  his  stay  in  Edinburgh.  Indeed, 
Robert  used  Hector  as  the  starting-point  for 
all  his  excursions,  and  whenever  he  became 
hopelessly  lost  in  the  wilds  of  the  Grassmarket 
or  the  purlieus  of  Morningside,  he  used  to  ask 
his  way  back  to  his  mentor's  pitch  and  make  a 
fresh  start.  We  shall  hear  of  Hector  again. 

The  foolhardy  feat  of  entering  a  shop  Robert 
did  not  attempt  until  his  very  last  day  in 
Edinburgh,  and  then  only  because  he  was  abso- 
lutely compelled  to  do  so  by  the  necessity  of 
executing  a  commission  for  his  sister  Margaret — 
the  purchase  of  half  a  yard  of  ribbon. 

It  is  true  that  the  same  ribbon  could  have 
been  obtained  at  home  from  Malcolm  M'Whiston 
or  a  travelling  packman,  but  Margaret  was  de- 
termined to  have  it  from  Edinburgh ;  and  she 
was  particularly  emphatic  in  her  injunctions  to 
Robert  to  see  that  the  folk  in  the  shop  stuck 
a  label  on  the  parcel,  "  with  their  name  printed 
on,  and  a  picture  of  the  shop  and  a'." 

On  Saturday  morning,  then,  Robert  approached 
the  establishment  which  he  had  chosen  for  the 
purpose.  After  a  careful  reconnaissance  he  dis- 
covered that  it  possessed  several  doors.  Here 
was  a  poser.  Which  would  be  the  ribbon  door  ? 
Supposing  he  entered  the  wrong  one  and  found 


14  Raw  Material 

himself  compelled  to  purchase  a  roll  of  muslin 
or  a  wash-hand-stand?  With  natural  acumen 
he  finally  selected  a  door  flanked  by  windows 
containing  lace  and  ribbon ;  and  waiting  for  a 
moment  when  the  surging  crowd  was  thickest, 
attempted  to  slip  in  with  them.  He  got  safely 
past  a  hero  in  a  medal-sown  uniform,  but  im- 
mediately after  this  encountered  an  imposing 
gentleman  in  a  frock-coat,  who  asked  his  pleas- 
ure. Robert  inquired  respectfully  if  the  gentle- 
man kept  ribbon.  The  gentleman  said  "  Surely, 
surely ! "  and  Robert's  modest  requirements  were 
thereupon  sent  ringing  from  a  throat  of  brass 
into  the  uttermost  recesses  of  the  establishment, 
and  he  himself  was  passed,  hot-faced,  along  the 
fairway  until  he  reached  the  right  department. 
Here  his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth, 
and  the  siren  behind  the  counter,  with  difficulty 
stifling  her  amusement,  was  reduced  to  discover- 
ing his  needs  by  a  process  of  elimination. 

"  What  will  I  show  you  ? " 

No  answer. 

"  Ladies'  gloves  ? " 

A  shake  of  the  head. 

"Handkerchiefs?" 

Another  shake. 

"  Stockings  ? " 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     15 

Another  shake,  accompanied  by  a  deepening  of 
complexion. 

"Well— ribbon?" 

"  Aye,  that's  it,"  replied  Robert,  suddenly  find- 
ing his  voice  (which,  by  the  way,  rather  re- 
sembled the  Last  Trump).  "  Hauf  a  yaird — 
one  inch  wide  —  satin  —  cream  ! "  he  roared 
mechanically. 

He  received  the  small  parcel,  and  furtively 
fingering  the  money  in  his  pocket,  asked  the 
price. 

"  Two-three,  please,"  replied  the  damsel  briskly. 

How  Robert  thanked  his  stars  that  he  had 
some  cash  in  hand !  But  what  a  price !  All 
that  for  a  scrap  of  ribbon !  It  seemed  sinful ; 
but  he  laid  two  shillings  and  threepence  on  the 
counter.  Greatly  to  his  alarm,  the  young  woman 
behind  it,  who  up  to  this  point  had  kept  her 
feelings  under  commendable  control,  suddenly 
collapsed  like  a  punctured  balloon  on  to  the 
shoulder  of  her  nearest  neighbour — there  being 
no  shop -walkers  about — and  expressed  a  wish 
that  she  might  be  taken  home  and  buried. 
Finally  she  recovered  sufficiently  to  push 
Robert's  two  shillings  back  across  the  counter 
and  to  place  his  threepence  in  a  mysterious 
receptacle  which  she  thrust  into  a  hole  in  the 


1 6  Raw  Material 

wall,  from  which  it  was  ejected  with  much 
clatter  a  minute  later;  and  on  being  opened 
proved  to  contain  what  the  dazed  Robert  at 
first  took  for  a  half-sovereign,  but  which  he 
ultimately  discovered,  when  he  had  abandoned 
the  still  giggling  maiden  and  groped  his  way 
out  into  the  street,  to  be  a  bright  new  farthing. 

The  same  day  he  returned  to  his  home ;  but 
he  did  not  reach  it  without  one  more  adventure, 
a  slight  one,  it  is  true,  but  not  without  its  effect 
upon  his  future. 

The  train  was  over-full,  and  Robert  ultimately 
found  himself  travelling  in  company  with  nine 
other  passengers,  seven  of  whom  were  suffering 
from  that  infirmity  once  poetically  described  by 
an  expert  in  such  diagnoses  as  "  a  wee  bit  drappie 
in  their  een."  The  exception  was  a  gentleman 
in  the  far  corner,  accompanied  by  a  most  lovely 
young  lady,  upon  whom  Robert  gazed  continu- 
ously with  an  admiration  so  absorbing  and  pro- 
found that  it  took  him  some  little  time  to  realise, 
shortly  after  the  commencement  of  the  journey, 
that  the  rest  of  the  company  were  indulging  in 
a  free  fight  all  over  the  compartment,  and  that 
the  lady  was  clinging  in  terror  to  her  escort. 
Robert  was  of  considerable  service  in  restoring 
order,  and  found  his  reward  in  the  eyes  of  the 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     17 

lady,  who  thanked  him  very  prettily.  Her 
husband  had  the  sense  not  to  offer  Robert 
money,  but  gave  him  his  card,  and  said  in  a 
curious,  stiff,  English  way  that  he  hoped  he 
might  be  of  service  to  him  some  day.  They 
got  out  at  Perth,  and  Robert  travelled  on  alone. 

Hours  later  he  was  met  by  his  brother  David 
at  a  little  wayside  station,  and  driven  over 
fifteen  miles  of  hilly  road  to  the  farm  where 
he  had  been  born  and  brought  up. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  at  daybreak,  and 
set  to  work  at  his  usual  tasks  about  the  yard, 
well  knowing  that  such  would  be  his  lot  to 
the  end  of  his  life  if  the  examination  list  did 
not  show  his  name  at  the  top. 

Some  days  had  to  elapse  before  the  result 
could  be  known ;  but  Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce 
— by  the  way,  I  think  we  know  him  well  enough 
now  to  call  him  Robin,  which  was  the  name 
his  mother  had  given  him  on  his  third  birth- 
day—  and  his  household,  being  Scottish  and 
undemonstrative,  made  little  or  no  reference  to 
the  subject. 

Robin  was  the  scholar  of  his  family.  He  was 
the  second  son,  David  being  four  years  older. 
But  in  accordance  with  that  simple,  grand,  and 

B 


1 8  Raw  Material 

patriarchal  law  of  Scottish  peasant  life,  which 
decrees  that  every  lad  of  parts  shall  be  given 
his  chance  to  bring  credit  on  the  family,  even 
though  his  parents  have  to  pinch  and  save  and 
his  brothers  bide  at  the  plough-tail  all  their  lives 
in  consequence — a  law  whose  chief  merit  lies 
in  the  splendid  sacrifices  which  its  faithful 
fulfilment  involves,  and  whose  vital  principle 
well  -  meaning  but  misguided  philanthropy  is 
now  endeavouring  to  dole  out  of  existence- 
he  had  been  sent  to  Edinburgh  to  make  the 
most  of  this,  his  one  chance  in  life. 

Still,  though  the  credit  of  the  family  hung 
upon  the  result  of  the  examination, — if  he  won 
the  Bursary,  the  money,  together  with  the 
precious  hoard  which  his  father  and  mother 
had  been  accumulating  for  him  for  ten  years, 
would  just  suffice  to  keep  him  at  the  University, 
— no  one  discussed  the  matter.  It  was  in  the 
hands  of  God,  and  prognostication  could  only  be 
vain  and  unprofitable.  His  mother  and  sister, 
indeed,  questioned  him  covertly  when  his  father 
and  brother  were  out  of  hearing ;  but  that  was 
chiefly  about  Edinburgh,  and  the  shops,  and 
the  splendours  of  the  Dairy  Road.  The  Bursary 
was  never  mentioned. 

On  the  day  on  which    the  result  was  to  be 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     19 

announced  their  father  took  Robin  and  David 
away  to  a  distant  hillside  to  assist  at  the  sheep- 
dipping.  The  news  would  come  by  letter,  which 
might  or  might  not  get  as  far  as  Strathmyrtle 
Post  Office,  seven  miles  away,  that  very  after- 
noon. In  the  morning  it  would  be  delivered 
by  the  postman. 

But  there  are  limits  to  human  endurance, 
none  the  less  definite  because  that  endurance 
appears  illimitable.  When  father  and  sons 
tramped  back  to  the  farm  that  evening,  just 
in  time  for  supper,  it  was  discovered  that  Mar- 
garet was  absent.  John  Fordyce,  grim  old 
martinet  that  he  was,  looked  round  the  table 
inquiringly ;  but  a  glance  at  his  wife's  face 
caused  him  to  go  on  with  his  meal. 

At  nine  o'clock  precisely  the  table  was  cleared. 
The  herdman  and  two  farm  lasses  came  into  the 
kitchen  from  their  final  tasks  in  the  yard,  and 
the  great  Bible  was  put  down  on  the  table  for 
evening  "  worship." 

John  Fordyce,  having  looked  up  the  "portion" 
which  he  proposed  to  read,  then  turned  to  the 
Metrical  Psalms.  These  were  sung  night  by 
night  in  unswerving  rotation  throughout  the 
year,  a  custom  which,  while  it  offered  the 
pleasing  prospect  of  variety,  occasionally  left 


2O  Raw  Material 

something  to  be  desired  on  the  score  of  ap- 
propriateness. 

All  being  seated,  the  old  man,  after  a  final 
fleeting  glance  at  his  daughter's  empty  chair, 
gave  out  the  Psalm. 

"  Let  us  worship  God,"  he  said,  "  by  singing 
to  His  praise  in  the  Hundred  and  Twenty-first 
Psalm.  Psalm  a  Hundred  and  Twenty-one — 

'  I  to  the  hills  will  lift  mine  eyes, 
From  whence  doth  come ' " 

The  door  opened,  and  Margaret  entered.  She 
was  dusty  and  tired,  for  she  had  walked  fourteen 
miles  since  milking -time ;  but  in  her  hand  she 
held  a  letter. 

She  glanced  timidly  at  the  clock,  and  was 
for  slipping  quietly  into  her  seat ;  but  her  father 
said — 

"You  had  best  give  it  to  him  now.  A  man 
cannot  worship  God  while  his  mind  is  distracted 
with  other  things." 

Robin  took  the  letter,  and  after  a  glance  in 
the  direction  of  his  father  and  the  waiting  Bible, 
opened  and  read  it  amidst  a  tense  silence.  Fin- 
ally he  looked  up. 

"Well?  "said  the  old  man. 


Oatmeal  and  the  Shorter  Catechism     21 

"  They  have  given  me  the  First  Bursary, 
father,"  said  Robin. 

No  one  spoke,  but  Robin  saw  tears  running 
down  his  mother's  face.  John  Fordyce  deliber- 
ately turned  back  several  pages  of  the  Bible. 

"  We  will  sing,"  he  said  in  a  clear  voice,  "  in 
the  Twenty- third  Psalm — the  whole  of  it ! — 

'The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want '" 

The  Psalms  of  David,  as  rendered  into  English 
verse  by  Nahum  Tate  and  others,  are  not  re- 
markable for  poetic  merit ;  neither  does  the  old 
Scottish  fashion  of  singing  the  same,  seated  and 
without  accompaniment,  conduce  to  a  concord 
of  sweet  sounds.  But  there  are  no  tunes  like 
old  tunes,  and  there  are  no  hearts  like  full 
hearts.  If  ever  a  song  went  straight  up  to 
heaven,  the  Twenty -third  Psalm,  borne  up  on 
the  wings  of  "  Martyrdom,"  did  so  that  night. 


22 


CHAPTER    TWO. 

INTRODUCES    A   PILLAR   OF   STATE   AND   THE 
APPURTENANCES   THEREOF. 

THE  time  had  undoubtedly  arrived  when  I  must 
have  a  Private  Secretary. 

Kitty,  for  one,  insisted  on  it.  She  said  that 
I  was  ruining  my  health  in  the  service  of  an 
ungrateful  country,  and  added  that  she,  per- 
sonally, declined  to  be  left  a  widow  at  twenty- 
eight-and-a-half  to  oblige  anybody. 

"It  is  exactly  the  wrong  age,"  she  said.  "If 
it  had  happened  four  or  five  years  ago,  I  could 
have  done  pretty  well  for  myself.  Now,  I  should 
be  out  of  the  running  among  the  debutantes,  and 
a  little  too  young  and  flighty  to  suit  a  middle- 
aged  bachelor." 

I  may  add  that  my  wife  does  not  often  talk 
in  this  unfeeling  manner.  But  she  suffers  at 
times  from  a  desire  to  live  up  to  a  sort  of 
honorary  reputation  for  sprightly  humour,  con- 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          23 

ferred  upon  her  by  undiscriminating  admirers 
in  the  days  before  she  became  engaged  to  me. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  her  solicitude  on  my  behalf 
was  largely  due  to  an  ambition  to  see  a  little 
paragraph  in  the  newspapers,  announcing  that 
"Mr  Adrian  Inglethwaite,  M.P.,  Director  of  the 
Sub  -  Tropical  and  Arctic  Department  at  the 
Foreign  Office,  has  appointed  Mr  Blankley  Dash 
to  be  his  Private  Secretary." 

Dolly  and  Dilly  seconded  the  motion.  They 
had  not  the  effrontery  to  wrap  up  their  motives 
in  specious  expressions  of  concern  for  my  health, 
but  stated  their  point  of  view  with  brutal  frank- 
ness, as  is  their  wont.  I  was  an  old  dear,  they 
conceded,  and  of  course  Kitty  was  Kitty ;  but 
a  sister  and  brother  -  in  -  law  were,  to  put  it 
quite  plainly,  a  hopelessly  dull  couple  to  live 
with :  and  the  visits  of  Mesdames  Dolly  and 
Dilly  to  our  roof-tree  would,  it  was  hinted,  be 
more  frequent  and  enduring  if  the  establishment 
was  strengthened  by  the  addition  of  a  present- 
able young  man. 

I  consented.  It  was  three  to  one.  To  any  one 
acquainted  with  the  trio  of  sisters  arrayed  against 
me,  it  will  at  once  be  apparent  that  "  these  odds" 
(as  the  halfpenny  papers  say)  "  but  faintly  rep- 
resent the  superiority  of  the  winning  side." 


24  Raw  Material 

Having  thus  dragged  the  reader  without 
apology  into  the  most  intimate  regions  of  my 
family  circle,  I  had  perhaps  better  introduce 
myself  and  my  entourage  a  little  more  formally. 

My  name  is  Samuel  Adrian  Ingle thwaite. 
Why  I  was  called  Samuel  I  do  not  know. 
Possibly  my  parents  did.  Samuel  may  have 
been  a  baptismal  sprat  set  to  catch  a  testa- 
mentary whale,  but  if  this  was  so  no  legacy 
ever  came  my  way.  Personally,  I  am  rather 
attached  to  the  name,  as  I  was  called  nothing 
else  until  I  encountered  the  lady  who  ultimately 
consented  to  become  Mrs  Inglethwaite.  Since 
that  epoch  in  my  career  I  have  been  S.  Adrian 
Inglethwaite. 

I  am  thirty -six  years  of  age,  and  hold  an 
appointment  under  Government,  which,  while  it 
does  not  carry  with  it  Cabinet  rank  —  though 
Kitty  cannot  see  why — is  sufficiently  important 
to  make  the  daily  papers  keep  my  obituary 
notice  handily  pigeon-holed,  in  case  I  fall  over 
the  Thames  Embankment,  get  run  over  by  a 
motor-bus,  or  otherwise  contravene  the  by-laws 
of  the  London  County  Council. 

As  no  man  can  possibly  give  an  unbiassed 
opinion  of  his  own  wife,  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  describe  mine  at  this  juncture,  except  to 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          25 

mention  that  she  is  a  woman  with  no  fault 
that  I  can  for  the  moment  recall,  beyond  a 
predilection  for  belonging  to  societies  which  are 
better  known  for  their  aims  than  for  their 
achievements,  are  perennially  short  of  funds, 
and  seem  to  possess  no  place  of  meeting  except 
my  drawing-room. 

Dolly  and  Dilly  are  Kitty's  sisters.  They  are 
twins,  and  there  present  age  is,  I  think,  nineteen. 
Though  I  say  it  who  should  not,  they  are  both 
astonishingly  attractive  young  persons,  and  the 
more  I  see  of  them  the  more  the  fact  is  borne 
in  upon  me.  Indeed,  a  casual  remark  of  mine 
to  that  effect,  uttered  to  my  wife,  by  an  unfor- 
tunate coincidence,  on  the  very  morning  upon 
which  one  of  the  numerous  Deceased  Wife's 
Sister's  Bills  passed  its  Second  Reading  in  the 
House,  gave  rise  to  a  coldness  of  demeanour  on 
her  part  which  was  only  dispelled  by  an  abject 
apology  and  a  dinner  for  two  at  the  Savoy  on 
mine. 

To  return  to  Dolly  and  Dilly.  I  never  know 
them  apart,  and  I  do  not  think  Kitty  does 
either.  Both  are  divinely  tall  and  divinely  fair ; 
they  are  exactly  like  each  other  in  form,  voice, 
and  feature ;  and  they  possess  the  irritating 
habit,  not  uncommon  with  twins,  of  endeavour- 


26  Raw  Material 

ing  to  exaggerate  their  natural  resemblance  by 
various  puzzling  and,  I  consider,  unsportsman- 
like devices.  They  wear  each  other's  clothes 
indiscriminately,  and  are  not  above  taking  turn 
and  turn  about  with  the  affections  of  unsus- 
pecting young  men,  of  whom  they  possess  a 
considerable  following.  They  attract  admiration 
without  effort,  and,  I  honestly  believe,  without 
intention.  Of  the  meaning  of  love  they  know 
nothing,  —  they  are  female  Peter  Pans,  and 
resolutely  refuse  to  grow  up,  except  outwardly, 
— and  the  intrusion  of  that  passion  into  their 
dealings  with  persons  of  the  male  gender  is 
regarded  by  them  at  present  as  a  contingency 
to  be  discouraged  at  all  costs.  The  conditions 
under  which  they  admit  their  admirers  to  their 
friendship  are  commendably  simple  and  perfectly 
definite.  If  a  man  is  adjudged  by  them  to 
have  attained  all  the  complicated  and  inexplic- 
able standards  by  which  women  judge  the 
opposite  sex,  he  is  admitted  into  the  ranks  of 
the  Good  Sorts ;  and  as  such,  provided  that  he 
keeps  his  head,  has  an  extremely  pleasant  time 
of  it.  If,  however,  any  obtuse  and  amorous 
youth  persists  in  mistaking  what  Nanki  -  Poo 
once  described  as  "  customary  expressions  of 
affability "  for  an  indication  that  his  infatuation 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          27 

is  reciprocated,  the  Twins  act  promptly.  They 
have  "  no  use "  for  such  creatures,  they  once 
explained  to  me ;  and  they  proceed  to  rid 
themselves  of  the  incubus  in  a  fashion  entirely 
their  own. 

As  soon  as  the  pressure  of  the  affaire  rises 
to  danger-point — i.e.,  when  the  youth  begins  to 
pay  markedly  more  attention  to  one  Twin  than 
the  other — he  is  asked,  say,  to  lunch.  Here 
he  is  made  much  of  by  the  object  of  his  affec- 
tions, who  looks  radiant  in,  let  us  say,  white 
batiste;  while  the  unemployed  Twin,  in  (possibly) 
blue  poplin,  holds  discreetly  aloof.  After  lunch 
the  Twins,  leaving  their  victim  to  smoke  a 
cigar,  retire  swiftly  to  their  room,  where  they 
exchange  costumes,  and  descend  again  to  the 
drawing-room.  There  Dolly,  now  arrayed  in 
white  batiste,  enters  upon  the  path  of  dalliance 
where  Dilly  left  off;  and  Dilly,  relieved  from 
duty,  crochets  in  a  window-recess,  and  silently 
enjoys  her  sister's  impersonation. 

One  of  two  things  happens.  Romeo  either 
does  not  notice  the  difference,  or  else  he  does 
If  he  does  not,  he  continues  to  flounder  heavily 
along  in  pursuit  of  the  well-beloved,  oblivious 
of  the  fact  that  he  is  wasting  his  efforts  on  an 
understudy.  After  an  appropriate  interval  the 


28  Raw  Material 

cold  truth  is  revealed  to  him  in  a  hysterical 
duet,  and  he  goes  home,  glaring  defiantly,  but 
feeling  an  entire  and  unmitigated  ass. 

Or  he  may  actually  recognise  that  Dilly  has 
been  replaced  by  Dolly, — this  is  what  happens 
when  the  case  is  a  really  serious  one, — and  if 
this  occurs  he  is  more  sorrowful  than  angry, 
poor  fellow,  for  he  sees  that  he  is  being  trifled 
with ;  and  your  true  lover  is  the  most  desper- 
ately earnest  person  in  the  world.  In  either 
case  the  affaire  terminates  then  and  there. 
And  that  is  how  my  sisters-in-law,  with  adroit- 
ness and  despatch,  return  immature  and  unde- 
sirable suitors  to  their  native  element.  The 
whole  proceeding  reminds  me  irresistibly  of  the 
Undersized  Fish  Bill,  a  measure  whose  progress 
I  once  assisted  in  its  course  through  a  Committee 
of  the  House. 

However,  having  been  bidden  to  procure  a 
Private  Secretary,  I  meekly  set  about  looking 
for  one.  One  night  at  dinner  we  held  a 
symposium  on  the  subject,  and  endeavoured  to 
evolve  an  outline  of  the  kind  of  gentleman 
who  was  likely  to  suit  us.  The  following  is  a 
precis  of  the  result.  I  leave  the  intelligent 
reader  to  trace  each  item  to  its  author ;  also  the 
various  parenthetical  comments  on  the  same  : — 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          29 

(a)  He  must  be  a  'Varsity  man. 

(6)  He  must  be  able  to  keep  accounts,  and 
transact  business  generally. 

(c)  He  must  be  content  with  a  salary  of  two 
hundred  a-year,  with  board  and  resid- 
ence in  the  house.  ("  He  can  have 
that  little  room  off  the  library  for  a 
sitting-room,  dear,  and  sleep  in  the  old 
night-nursery.") 

(d)  He    must    not    wear    celluloid    collars    or 

made  -  up  ties.  ("  But  he'll  have  to, 
poor  dear,  if  the  Infant  Samuel  only 
gives  him  two  hundred  a-year.") 

(e)  He  must  be  prepared  to  run  through  my 

speeches  before  I  deliver  them.  ("  I 
suppose  that  means  write  them ! "), 
look  up  my  subject  -  matter,  verify  my 
references,  and  so  on.  ("  That  will 
be  an  improvement.  But  what  will 
the  halfpenny  papers  do  then,  poor 
things  ? ") 

(/)  He  must  be  the  sort  of  man  that  one  can 
have  in  to  a  dinner-party  without  any 
fear  of  accidents.  ("Yes.  He  must  be 
all  right  about  peas,  asparagus,  and 
liqueurs.  And  finger  -  bowls,  dearest. 
You  remember  the  man  who  drank  out 


30  Raw  Material 

of  his  at  that  queer  political  dinner  to 
the  constituents  ? ") 

(g)  He  must  be  nice  to  my  Philly. 

(h)  He  must  be  dark.     ("Pshaw!") 
(i)  He  must  be  fair.     ("Ugh!") 

(j)  He  must  be  able  to  waltz  and  play  bridge. 

At  this  point  I  suggested  that  a  prepaid 
telegram  to  the  Celestial  Regions  would  alone 
procure  the  article  we  required.  However,  we 
ultimately  descended  to  an  advertisement  in  the 
Morning  Post,  and  in  due  course  I  obtained 
a  secretary.  In  fact,  I  obtained  several.  We 
had  them  seriatim,  and  none  stayed  longer  than 
a  month.  I  do  not  propose  to  write  a  detailed 
history  of  the  dynasty  which  I  now  found  it  my 
privilege  to  support.  A  brief  resume  of  each  will 
suffice. 

Number  One. — Cambridge  Football  Blue.  Big 
and  breezy.  Spelling  entirely  phonetic.  Spent 
most  of  his  time  smoking  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  laboured  under  the  delusion  that,  as  my 
amanuensis,  he  was  at  liberty  to  forge  my  sig- 
nature to  all  documents,  including  cheques.  He 
used  my  official  note-paper  to  back  horses  on, 
and  was  finally  requested  to  leave,  after  an  un- 
seemly brawl  with  a  book-maker's  tout  on  my 
doorstep. 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          31 

Number  Two. — Oxford :  a  First  in  Greats.  A 
heavy  manner,  usually  beginning  his  observations 
with  "Wherewithal"  or  "  Perad  venture."  The 
Twins  suffered  severely  from  suppressed  giggles 
in  his  presence.  Regarded  my  superficial  ideas 
of  statesmanship  with  profound  contempt,  but 
left  after  a  fortnight,  having  allowed  a  highly 
confidential  and  extremely  personal  pencil  note, 
written  in  the  margin  of  a  despatch  by  the 
Premier  himself,  to  blossom  forth  in  large  type 
in  the  text  of  a  Blue  Book. 

Number  Three. — Rather  elderly  for  the  post — 
nearer  forty  than  thirty  —  but  highly  recom- 
mended. Reduced  my  chaotic  papers  to  order 
in  twenty-four  hours,  charmed  my  wife  and  her 
sisters,  drafted  a  speech  which  won  me  quite  a 
little  ovation  in  the  House,  suggested  several 
notable  improvements  in  the  "  Importation  of 
Mad  Dogs  Bill,"  with  which  I  was  to  be  entrusted 
next  session — and  was  found  lying  dead  drunk 
in  his  bedroom,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
on  the  second  Sunday  after  his  arrival.  Half  a 
dozen  empty  brandy  bottles  were  afterwards  dis- 
covered on  the  top  of  his  wardrobe.  Poor  devil ! 

Number  Four. — (Subsequently  handed  down 
to  posterity  as  "The  Limit").  Small,  spectacled, 
and  nervous.  Came  from  a  Welsh  University, 


32  Raw  Material 

and  was  strong  on  "  the  methodical  filing  of 
State  and  other  documents."  He  stayed  two 
days.  On  the  first  night  (after  inquiring 
whether  we  were  expecting  guests  that  even- 
ing, and  receiving  an  answer  in  the  negative) 
he  came  down  to  dinner  in  a  sort  of  alpaca 
smoking -jacket  and  a  tartan  tie.  On  the 
second,  having  evidently  decided  to  treat  us  to 
all  the  resources  of  his  wardrobe  as  soon  as 
possible,  he  appeared  in  more  or  less  ordinary 
evening  attire.  He  wore  a  small  white  satin 
bow-tie,  attached  to  his  collar- stud  by  a  brass 
clip.  The  tie  fell  off  the  stud  into  his  soup 
almost  immediately,  and  its  owner,  after  fur- 
tively chasing  it  round  the  plate  with  his  fore- 
finger, finally  fished  it  out  with  the  aid  of  a 
fork ;  and,  having  squeezed  as  much  soup  as 
possible  back  into  the  plate,  put  the  bow  into 
his  waistcoat  pocket  and  resumed  his  meal 
with  every  appearance  of  enjoyment. 

He  left  next  morning.  As  the  Twins  pathet- 
ically observed  :  "  It  had  to  be  him  or  us  ! "  I 
was  sorry,  for  he  was  a  tidy  little  creature 
away  from  table. 

After  that  I  did  a  rash  thing.  I  engaged  a 
Private  Secretary  on  the  spur  of  the  moment 
and  without  consulting  my  household. 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State         33 
One    morning    I    had    occasion    to    visit    the 

o 

British  Museum.  That  mausoleum  of  learning 
is  not  an  habitual  resort  of  mine,  but  on  this 
occasion  I  had  found  it  necessary  to  refresh  my 
memory  on  the  subject  of  a  small  principality 
situated  somewhere  in  the  Pacific,  and  reported 
to  be  in  a  state  of  considerable  unrest,  concerning 
which  the  member  for  Upper  Gumbtree,  an  un- 
pleasantly omniscient  young  man  with  a  trucu- 
lent manner,  had  been  asking  questions  in  the 
House.  It  seemed  that  British  interests  in  that 
quarter  were  not  being  adequately  protected  by 
our  Department,  and  this  extremely  pushing 
gentleman  was  now  gaining  much  cheap  applause 
in  the  columns  of  those  low-priced  organs  which 
make  a  living  by  deriding  his  Majesty's  Ministers, 
by  bombarding  us  with  fatuous  inquiries  on  the 
subject.  My  Chief  had  only  the  most  hazy 
notion  about  the  place — as  a  matter  of  fact  I 
do  not  believe  that  either  he  or  any  of  the 
permanent  officials  had  ever  heard  of  it — and  I 
was  in  a  precisely  similar  condition.  I  was 
accordingly  bidden  to  get  up  the  subject,  and 
accumulate  a  mass  of  information  thereon  which 
would  not  only  satiate  the  appetite  of  the  honour- 
able member,  but  choke  him  off  for  all  time. 
Finding  myself  in  want  of  a  particular 

c 


34  Raw  Material 

Gazetteer  which  was  not  to  be  found  in  the 
office,  and  being  in  no  mood  to  take  a  clerk, 
however  uncritical,  into  my  confidence,  I  called 
a  hansom  and  drove  straight  to  the  Museum ; 
where,  having  ensconced  myself  in  the  reading- 
room  with  the  work  in  question,  I  prepared  to 
devote  a  dusty  and  laborious  morning  to  the 
service  of  State. 

Immediately  opposite  me  sat  a  gigantic  young 
man  of  a  slightly  threadbare  appearance,  who 
was  copying  some  screed  out  of  a  bulky  tome 
before  him.  I  regarded  him  in  a  reminiscent 
sort  of  way  for  a  few  minutes,  and  presently 
found  that  my  scrutiny  was  being  returned 
fourfold.  Next  came  an  enormous  hand  that 
was  suddenly  thrust  across  the  table  towards 
me,  and  I  remembered  him. 

We  had  met  six  years  ago  in  a  railway  train, 
under  circumstances  which  made  me  extremely 
glad  to  make  his  acquaintance  at  any  price. 
Kitty  and  I  were  on  our  honeymoon,  and  hap- 
pened to  be  travelling  on  a  Saturday  afternoon 
from  Edinburgh  to  Perth  in  a  train  packed  to 
suffocation  with  the  supporters  of  a  football  team 
of  the  baser  sort.  We  were  bound  for  Inchellan, 
the  Scottish  residence  of  my  Chief,  who  was 
sending  to  meet  us  at  Perth. 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          35 

As  the  first-class  carriages  were  all  occupied 
by  gentlemen  with  third-class  tickets,  we  travelled 
third  with  a  company  who  did  not  seem  to  possess 
any  tickets  at  all.  Just  before  the  train  started 
the  door  was  thrown  open  and  two  inebriated 
Scots,  several  degrees  further  gone  than  the  rest 
of  the  company — which  is  saying  a  good  deal — 
were  hurled  in.  If  the  assemblage  had  all  been 
of  one  way  of  thinking  we  might  have  reached 
Perth  with  nothing  worse  than  bad  headaches, 
but  unfortunately  some  supporters  of  the  other 
team  were  present,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  heated 
and  alcoholic  debate  on  the  rights  and  wrongs 
of  the  last  free  kick,  two  rival  orators  suddenly 
arose,  clinched,  and  continued  their  argument  at 
close  grips  on  the  floor.  In  a  moment  the  party 
divided  itself  into  two  camps,  and  the  conflict 
became  general.  As  there  were  ten  people  in 
the  compartment,  of  whom  seven  were  engaged 
in  a  life-and-death  struggle,  the  movements  of 
the  non  -  combatants  —  Kitty,  myself,  and  a 
gigantic  youth  of  gawky  appearance  —  were, 
to  put  it  mildly,  somewhat  restricted.  Kitty 
became  thoroughly  frightened,  and  hampered 
my  preparations  for  battle  by  clinging  to  my 
arm.  The  gigantic  youth,  seeing  this,  suddenly 
took  command  of  the  situation. 


36  Raw  Material 

"  Watch  you  the  young  leddy ! "  he  bellowed 
in  my  ear,  "and  I'll  sort  them." 

With  that  he  hurled  himself  into  the  tumult. 
The  exact  details  of  his  performance  I  could  not 
see,  the  scientific  dusting  of  railway  cushions 
not  having  penetrated  any  further  north  of  the 
Forth  than  it  has  south  of  the  Thames ;  but  the 
net  result  was  that  each  combatant  was  pulled 
off,  picked  up,  shaken  until  his  teeth  rattled, 
and  banged  down  on  to  his  seat  with  a  brief 
admonition  to  mind  his  manners,  until  seven 
bewildered,  partially  sobered,  and  thoroughly 
demoralised  patrons  of  sport  sat  round  about 
in  various  attitudes  of  limp  dejection,  leaning 
against  one  another  like  dissipated  marionettes ; 
while  our  rustic  Hector,  bestriding  the  compart- 
ment like  a  Colossus,  dared  them  to  move  a 
finger  under  penalty  of  being  "skelped." 

He  bundled  them  all  out  at  the  next  stopping- 
place,  without  inquiring  whether  they  desired 
to  alight  there  or  no,  and  I  am  bound  to  say 
that  they  all  seemed  as  anxious  to  leave  the 
carriage  as  he  was  to  expel  them.  He  then 
shut  the  door,  pulled  up  the  window,  and 
turned  to  my  wife  with  a  reassuring  smile. 

1  Yon  was  just  a  storrm  in  a  teapot,"  he  re- 
marked affably. 


Introduces  a  Pillar  of  State          37 

He  accepted  my  thanks  with  indifference,  but 
blushed  in  a  gratified  manner  when  Kitty  ad- 
dressed him.  He  was  her  bond -slave  by  the 
time  that  we  bade  him  farewell  at  Perth.  I 
presented  him  with  my  card,  which  he  carefully 
placed  inside  the  lining  of  his  hat ;  but  he  for- 
bore, either  from  native  caution  or  excessive 
shyness,  to  furnish  us  with  any  information  as 
to  his  own  identity. 

Well,  here  he  was,  sitting  opposite  to  me  in 
the  Reading  Room  of  the  British  Museum,  and 
seemingly  none  too  prosperous.  Six  years  ago 
he  had  looked  like  a  young  and  healthy  farm 
lad.  Now,  fourth -rate  journalism  was  stamped 
all  over  him. 


CHAPTER   THREE. 

"  ANENT." 

WE  conversed  awhile  in  whispers  to  avoid  dis- 
turbing the  other  worshippers — I  always  feel 
like  that  in  the  British  Museum — and  finally 
abandoned  our  respective  tasks  and  issued  forth 
together.  With  a  little  persuasion  I  prevailed 
upon  my  companion  to  come  and  lunch  with  me, 
and  we  repaired  to  a  rather  old-fashioned  and 
thoroughly  British  establishment  close  by,  where 
the  fare  is  solid  and  the  "  portions  "  generous. 

My  guest,  after  a  brief  effort  at  self-repression, 
fell  upon  the  food  in  a  fashion  that  told  me  a 
far  more  vivid  tale  of  his  present  circumstances 
than  the  most  lengthy  explanation  could  have 
done.  When  he  was  full  I  gave  him  a  cigar, 
and  he  leaned  back  in  his  padded  arm-chair  and 
surveyed  me  with  the  nearest  approach  to 
emotion  that  I  have  ever  observed  in  the 
countenance  of  a  Scot. 


"Anent"  39 

"  I  was  wanting  that,"  he  remarked  frankly, 
and  he  smiled  largely  upon  me.  He  was  look- 
ing less  gaunt  now,  and  the  rugged  lines  of  his 
face  were  tinged  with  a  more  healthy  colour. 
He  was  a  handsome  youth,  I  noticed,  with 
shrewd  grey  eyes  and  a  chin  that  stood  out 
like  the  ram  of  a  battle-ship. 

He  told  me  all  about  himself,  some  of  which 
has  been  set  down  here  already.  He  had  done 
well  at  Edinburgh  University,  and,  having 
obtained  his  Arts  degree,  was  on  the  point  of 
settling  down  to  study  for  the  ministry — the 
be-all  and  end-all  of  the  hope  of  a  humble 
Scottish  household — when  disaster  came  tum- 
bling upon  his  family.  His  brother  David  fell 
sick  in  his  lungs,  and  the  doctor  prescribed 
a  sojourn  in  a  drier  climate  for  at  least  a 
year. 

The  next  part  of  the  narrative  was  rather 
elliptical ;  but  from  the  fact  that  money  was 
immediately  forthcoming  to  send  David  abroad, 
and  that  Robin  had  simultaneously  given  up 
his  work  in  Edinburgh  and  returned  home  to 
help  his  father  about  the  farm,  I  gathered  that 
a  life's  ambition  had  been  voluntarily  sacrificed 
on  the  altar  of  family  duty.  Anyhow,  when 
David  returned,  marvellously  and  mercifully 


40  Raw  Material 

restored  to  health,  setting  his  younger  brother 
free  once  more,  two  precious  years  had  flown ; 
so  that  Robin  now  found  himself,  at  the  age 
of  twenty -three,  faced  with  the  alternative  of 
making  a  fresh  start  in  life  or  remaining  on 
the  farm  at  home,  that  most  pathetic  and  for- 
lorn of  failures,  a  "  stickit  minister."  The  family 
exchequer  had  been  depleted  by  David's  illness, 
and  Robin,  rather  than  draw  any  further  on  the 
vanishing  little  store  of  pound-notes  in  the  cup- 
board behind  the  kitchen  chimney,  determined 
to  go  to  London  and  turn  his  education  to  some 
account. 

He  had  arrived  three  years  ago,  with  a  barrel 
of  salt  herrings  and  a  bag  of  meal ;  and  from 
that  time  he  had  earned  his  own  living — if  it 
could  be  called  a  living. 

"  Once  or  twice,"  he  said,  "  I  have  had  an 
article  taken  by  one  of  the  big  reviews ;  some- 
times I  get  some  odd  reporting  to  do ;  and 
whiles  I  just  have  to  write  chatty  paragraphs 
about  celebrities  for  the  snippety  papers." 

"Uphill  work  that,  I  should  think." 

"  Uphill  ?  Downhill !  Man,  it's  degrading. 
Do  you  know  what  I  was  doing  in  that  Museum 
this  morning  ? " 

"What?" 


"Anent"  41 

"  Have  you  heard  tell  of  a  man  they  call 
Dean  Ramsay  ? " 

"  Let  me  see — yes.  He  was  a  sort  of  Scottish 
Sidney  Smith,  wasn't  he  ?  " 

"That  is  the  man.  Well,  he  collected  most 
of  the  good  stories  in  Scotland  and  put  them 
in  a  book.  I  was  copying  a  few  of  them  out ; 
and  I  shall  father  them  on  to  folk  that  the 
public  wants  to  hear  about.  I  get  a  guinea 
a  column  for  that." 

"I  know  the  sort  of  thing,"  I  said.  "'A 
good  story  is  at  present  going  the  round  of  the 
clubs,  concerning " 

"  Not  '  concerning ' — '  anent ' ! " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  —  '  anent  a  certain 
well-known  but  absent  -  minded  Peer  of  the 
Realm.'" 

"  That's  the  stuff.  You  have  the  trick  of 
it.  Then  sometimes  I  do  bits  of  general  in- 
formation— computations  as  to  the  height  of  a 
column  of  the  picture  postcards  sold  in  London 
in  a  year,  and  all  that.  Nobody  can  check 
figures  of  that  kind,  so  the  work  is  easy — and 
correspondingly  ill-paid ! "  (I  cannot  reproduce 
the  number  of  contemptuous  r's  that  Eobin  threw 
into  the  adverb.) 

"  It's   a   fine   useful   place    the    Museum,"   he 


42  Raw  Material 

continued  reflectively.  "You  were  busy  there 
this  morning  yourself.  You  would  be  collect- 
ing data  anent — I  mean  about — the  Island  of 
Caerulea." 

I  sat  up  in  surprise  at  this. 

"  How  on  earth ? "  I  began. 

"  Oh,  I  just  jal — guessed  it.  You  being  the 
only  member  of  his  Majesty's  Government  in 
whom  I  have  any  personal  interest,  I  have 
always  followed  your  career  closely.  (You  gave 
me  your  card,  you'll  mind.)  Well,  I  saw  you 
were  having  trouble  with  yon  havering  body 
Wuddiford — I  once  reported  at  one  of  his  meet- 
ings :  he's  just  a  sweetie-wife  in  pince-nez — and 
when  I  saw  you  busy  with  an  atlas  and  gazetteer 
I  said  to  myself: — 'He'll  be  getting  up  a  few 
salient  facts  about  the  place,  in  order  to  ap- 
pease the  honourable  member's  insatiable  thirst 
for  knowledge — Toots,  there  I  go  again !  Man, 
the  journalese  fairly  soaks  into  the  system.  I 
doubt  now  if  I  could  write  out  twenty  lines 
of  '  Paradise  Lost '  without  cross  -  heading 
them ! " 

We  finished  our  cigar  over  talk  like  this, 
and  finally  rose  to  go.  Robin  lingered  upon  the 
steps  of  the  restaurant.  I  realised  that  he, 
being  a  Scotsman,  was  endeavouring  to  pump 


"Anent"  43 

up  the  emotional  gratitude  which  he  felt  sure 
that  I,  as  an  Englishman,  would  expect  from 
a  starving  pauper  who  had  lunched  at  my 
expense. 

"  I  must  thank  you,"  he  said  at  last,  rather 
awkwardly,  "  for  a  most  pleasant  luncheon.  And 
I  should  like  fine,"  he  added  suddenly  and  im- 
petuously, "  to  make  out  a  precis  for  you  on 
the  subject  of  Caerulea.  Never  heed  it  your- 
self! Away  home,  and  I'll  send  it  to  you 
to-morrow ! " 

An  idea  which  had  been  maturing  in  my 
slow-moving  brain  for  some  time  suddenly  took 
a  definite  shape. 

"It  is  extremely  kind  of  you,"  I  said.  "  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  leave  the  matter  in  your 
hands.  But  when  you  have  made  the  precis, 
I  wonder  if  you  would  be  so  good  as  to  bring 
it  to  my  house  instead  of  sending  it  ? " 

I  gave  him  my  address,  and  we  parted. 

Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce  arrived  at  my  house 
next  morning.  He  brought  with  him  a  budget 
of  condensed  but  exhaustive  information  on  the 
subject  of  Caerulea,  the  assimilation  and  ultimate 
discharge  of  which  enabled  me  to  score  a  signal 
victory  over  Mr  Wuddiford  of  Upper  Gumbtree, 
relegating  that  champion  exploiter  of  mare's  nests 


44  Raw  Material 

to  a  sphere  of  comparative  inoffensiveness  for 
quite  a  considerable  time. 

After  reading  the  precis,  I  offered  Robin  the 
position  of  my  Private  Secretary,  which  he 
accepted  politely  but  without  servility  or  effu- 
siveness. I  handed  him  a  quarter's  salary  in 
advance,  gave  him  two  days'  holiday  wherein 
to  "make  his  arrangements" — Anglice,  to  re- 
plenish his  wardrobe  —  and  we  sealed  the 
bargain  with  a  glass  of  sherry  and  a  biscuit 
apiece. 

As  he  rose  to  go,  Robin  took  from  his  pocket 
a  folded  manuscript. 

"  I  see  you  have  a  good  fire  there,"  he  said. 

He  stepped  across  to  the  hearth-rug  and 
pitched  the  document  into  the  heart  of  the 
flames,  which  began  to  lick  it  caressingly. 

Presently  the  heat  caused  the  crackling  paper 
to  unfold  itself,  and  some  of  the  writing  became 
visible.  Robert  pointed,  and  I  read — 

"  Pars  about  Personalities.  A  capital  story 
is  at  present  going  the  round  of  the  clubs, 
anent " 

Here  the  flimsy  manuscript  burst  into  flame, 
and  shot  with  a  roar  up  the  chimney. 

I  looked  at  Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce,  and 
his  face  was  the  face  of  a  man  who  has  gone 


"  Anent "  45 

through  deep  waters,  but  feels  the  good  solid 
rock  beneath  his  feet  at  last. 

He  turned  dumbly  to  me,  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

The  worst  of  these  inarticulate  and  undemon- 
strative people  is  that  they  hurt  you  so. 


46 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

A   TRIAL   TRIP. 

THREE  days  later  I  introduced  Robert  Chalmers 
Fordyce  into  the  bosom  of  my  family.  I  had 
declined  to  give  them  any  previous  information 
about  him,  beyond  a  brief  warning  that  they 
would  find  him  "rather  Scotch." 

I  have  always  found  it  utterly  impossible  to 
foretell  from  a  man's  behaviour  towards  his 
own  sex  how  he  will  comport  himself  in  the 
presence  of  females.  I  have  known  a  raw 
youth,  hitherto  regarded  as  the  hobbledehoy  of 
the  shooting-party  and  the  pariah  of  the  smok- 
ing-room, lord  it  among  the  ladies  like  a  very 
lion ;  and  I  have  seen  the  hero  of  a  hundred 
fights,  the  master  of  men,  the  essence  of  in- 
trepid resolution,  stand  quaking  outside  a  draw- 
ing-room door.  The  debut  of  Robin,  then,  I 
awaited  with  considerable  interest.  I  expected 
on  the  whole  to  see  him  tongue-tied,  especially 


A  Trial  Trip  47 

before   Dolly   and   Dilly.       On   the    other   hand 
he  might  be  aggressively  assertive. 

He  was  neither.  He  proved  to  be  that 
rarest  of  types — the  man  who  has  no  fear  of 
his  fellow -creatures,  male  or  female,  singly  or 
in  battalions.  Our  sex  is  so  accustomed  to 
squaring  its  shoulders,  pulling  down  its  waist- 
coat, and  assuming  an  engaging  expression  as 
a  preliminary  to  an  encounter  with  the  fair, 
that  the  spectacle  of  a  man  who  enters  a 
strange  drawing-room  and  shakes  hands  quietly 
and  naturally  all  round,  without  twisting  his 
features  into  an  agreeable  smile  and  mumbling 
entirely  inarticulate  words  of  rapture,  always 
arouses  in  me  feelings  of  envy  and  respect. 

We  found  Kitty  and  the  Twins  picturesquely 
grouped  upon  the  drawing-room  hearth-rug, 
waiting  for  the  luncheon  gong. 

I  introduced  Robin  to  my  wife,  in  the  in- 
distinct and  throaty  tones  which  always  obtrude 
themselves  into  an  Englishman's  utterance  when 
he  is  called  upon  to  say  something  formal  but 
graceful.  Kitty  greeted  the  guest  with  a  smile 
with  which  I  am  well  acquainted  (and  which  I 
can  guarantee  from  personal  experience  to  be  ab- 
solutely irresistible  on  one's  first  experience  of  it), 
and  welcomed  him  to  the  house  very  prettily. 


48  Raw  Material 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mrs  Inglethwaite,"  said 
Robin,  shaking  hands.  "But  I  am  not  quite 
a  stranger  to  you.  Do  you  mind  my  face  ? " 

Kitty  turned  scarlet. 

"  Mind  your ?  Not  in  the — I  mean — I  am 

sure  we  are  de "  She  floundered  hopelessly. 

Robin  laughed  pleasantly. 

"There  is  my  Scots  tongue  running  away 
with  me  already,"  he  said.  "  I  should  have 
asked  rather  if  you  remembered  my  face." 

This  time  Kitty  ceased  to  look  confused,  but 
still  retained  a  puzzled  frown. 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly ;  "  I  don't  think " 

"  No  wonder  ! "  said  Robin.  "  We  met  once, 
in  a  railway  carriage,  six  years  ago.  Between 
Edinburgh  and  Perth  —  on  a  Saturday  after- 
noon," he  added  expressively. 

Light  broke  in  upon  Kitty.  "  Of  course  I " 
she  said.  "  Now  I  remember.  That  dreadful 
journey !  You  were  the  gentleman  who  was 
so  kind  and  helpful.  How  nice  and  romantic 
meeting  again !  Adrian,  you  silly  old  creature, 
why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Now,  Mr  Fordyce, 
let  me  introduce  you  to  my  sisters." 

She  wheeled  him  round  and  presented  him 
to  the  Twins. 

That   pair   of  beauties,    I    saw    at    a    glance, 


A  Trial  Trip  49 

were  out  after  scalps.  They  stood  up  side  by 
side  on  the  hearth-rug,  absolutely  and  weirdly 
alike,  and  arrayed  on  this  occasion  in  garments 
of  identical  hue  and  cut.  This  was  a  favourite 
device  of  theirs  when  about  to  meet  a  new 
young  man ;  it  usually  startled  him  consider- 
ably. If  he  was  not  a  person  of  sound  nerve 
and  abstemious  habits,  it  not  infrequently  evoked 
from  him  some  enjoyably  regrettable  expression 
of  surprise  and  alarm.  I  knew  all  the  tricks 
in  their  repertoire,  and  waited  interestedly  to 
see  the  effect  of  this  series. 

On  being  presented,  both  smiled  shyly  and 
modestly,  and  each  simultaneously  proffered  a 
timid  hand.  The  average  young  man,  already 
a  little  rattled  by  the  duplicate  vision  of  loveli- 
ness before  him,  could  never  make  up  his  mind 
which  hand  to  shake  first ;  and  by  the  time 
he  had  collected  his  faculties  sufficiently  to 
make  an  uncertain  grab  at  one,  both  would  be 
swiftly  and  simultaneously  withdrawn. 

Robin,  however,  immediately  shook  hands 
with  Dilly,  who  stood  nearest  to  Kitty,  and 
then  with  Dolly.  After  that  he  stepped  back 
a  pace  and  surveyed  the  pair  with  unconcealed 
interest. 

Then  he  turned  to  my  wife. 

D 


50  Raw  Material 

"  A  truly  remarkable  resemblance ! "  he  ob- 
served benignantly.  ("  Just  as  if  we  had  been 
two  babies  in  a  bassinette ! "  as  Dolly  after- 
wards remarked.) 

Then  he  resumed  his  inspection.  The  Twins, 
who  were  entirely  unused  to  this  sort  of  thing, 
were  too  taken  aback  to  proceed  to  their  second 
move — the  utterance  of  some  trivial  and  artless 
remark,  delivered  by  both  simultaneously,  and 
thereby  calculated  to  throw  the  victim  into  a 
state  of  uncertainty  as  to  which  he  should 
answer  first.  Instead,  they  stood  wide-eyed 
and  tongue-tied  before  him. 

"I  must  certainly  discover  some  point  of 
difference  between  these  ladies,"  continued 
Robin  with  an  air  of  determination,  "or  I 
shall  always  be  in  difficulties.  Do  not  tell  me 
the  secret,  Mrs  Inglethwaite.  Perhaps  I  can 
find  out  for  myself." 

He  concluded  a  minute  inspection  of  the 
indignant  Dilly,  and  turned  his  unruffled  gaze 
on  Dolly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  have  it!  You"  (trium- 
phantly to  Dolly)  "have  a  tiny  brown  spot 
in  the  blue  of  your  left  eye,  while  your  sister 
has  none." 

It  was  quite   true :   she  had.     But    it  was  a 


A  Trial  Trip  51 

fact  which  most  young  men  only  discovered 
after  many  furtive  and  sidelong  glances.  This 
imperturbable  creature  had  taken  it  all  in  in 
one  resolute  scrutiny;  and  Dolly,  blushing  like 
Aurora  —  an  infirmity  to  which  I  may  say 
neither  she  nor  her  sister  are  particularly 
subject — dropped  her  long  lashes  over  the  orbs 
in  question  and  looked  uncommonly  foolish. 

The  tension  of  the  situation  was  relieved  by 
the  announcement  of  luncheon,  and  Robin  was 
called  upon  to  accompany  Kitty  downstairs ; 
while  I,  putting  a  consoling  arm  round  the 
waist  of  each  of  my  fermenting  sisters-in-law, 
marched  them  down  to  further  experiences  in 
the  dining-room. 

The  Twins  rapidly  recovered  their  equanimity 
at  lunch.  They  sat,  as  they  always  did,  to- 
gether on  one  side  of  the  table,  opposite  to 
Robin.  The  latter  conversed  easily  and  pleas- 
antly, though  his  discourse  was  dotted  with 
homely  phrases  and  curious  little  biblical  turns 
of  speech. 

"  Have  you  been  in  London  long,  Mr  For- 
dyce  ? "  inquired  Kitty  as  we  settled  down. 

"  Three  years,"  said  Robin. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  lots  of  friends  by  this 
time." 


52  Raw  Material 

"I  have  a  good  many  acquaintances,  but  my 
friends  in  London  are  just  three,  all  told,"  said 
Robin,  in  what  Dilly  afterwards  described  as 
"a  disgustingly  pawky  manner." 

"You  must  be  very  exclusive,  Mr  Fordyce," 
chirrupped  Dolly. 

"  Far  from  it,"  said  Robin  ;  "  as  you  will  admit 
when  I  say  that  my  three  friends  are  a  police- 
man, a  surgeon,  and  a  minister." 

"  How  quaint  of  you  ! "  said  Dilly. 

But  Robin  did  not  seem  to  think  it  quaint. 
He  told  us  about  the  policeman  first — a  High- 
lander. Robin  had  made  his  acquaintance  in 
Edinburgh,  apparently  about  the  same  time 
that  he  made  ours,  and  had  renewed  it  some 
years  later  outside  the  House  of  Commons, 
when  a  rapturous  mutual  recognition  had  taken 
place.  The  policeman's  name  was  Hector 
MacPherson. 

"And  the  surgeon?"  inquired  Kitty,  with 
a  certain  friendly  assumption  of  interest  which 
announces  (to  me)  that  she  is  getting  a  little 
bored. 

"  He  is  just  my  uncle.  I  go  and  see  him, 
whi —  now  and  then.  He  is  a  busy  man." 

"  And  the — er — minister  ? " 

"  He  is  Dr  Strang.     He  has  the  Presbyterian 


A  Trial  Trip  53 

Church  in  Howard  Street.  I  have  sat  under 
him  every  Sabbath  since  I  came  to  London." 

"Wh — what  for?"  asked  Kitty  involuntarily, 
and  in  a  rather  awestruck  voice.  Her  ac- 
quaintance with  the  ritual  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland  was  hazy,  and  she  was  evidently 
determined  to-day  to  be  surprised  at  nothing; 
but  evidently  this  mysterious  reference  could 
not  be  allowed  to  pass  without  some  explana- 
tion. The  Twins  convulsively  gripped  each 
other's  hands  under  the  table.  (They  are  of 
course  perfectly  bred  girls — indeed,  their  self- 
possession  at  trying  moments  has  often  sur- 
prised me — but,  like  all  the  young  of  the 
human  species,  there  are  times  when  their  feel- 
ings become  too  much  for  them.  Then,  if  the 
occasion  is  too  formal  for  unrestrained  shrieks, 
they  silently  interdigitate.) 

"That  is  a  Scottish  expression,"  said  Robin, 
smiling  upon  us.  "You  must  pardon  me,  Mrs 
Inglethwaite.  I  should  perhaps  have  said  that 
I  was  an  adherent  of  Dr  Strang's  church — or 
rather,"  he  added  with  a  curious  little  touch 
of  pride,  "I  am  a  communicant  now.  I  was 
just  an  adherent  at  first." 

We  assented  to  this,  politely  but  dizzily. 

Scratch  a  Scot  and  you  will  find  a  theologian. 


54  Raw  Material 

Robin  was  fairly  started  now ;  and  he  proceeded 
to  enlarge  upon  various  points  of  interest  in 
the  parallel  histories  (given  in  full)  of  some 
three  or  four  Scottish  denominations,  interwoven 
with  extracts  from  his  own  family  archives. 
His  grand-uncle,  it  appeared,  had  been  a  min- 
ister himself,  and  had  performed  the  feat — to 
which  I  have  occasionally  heard  other  perfervid 
Scots  refer,  and  never  without  a  kindling  eye — 
known  as  "  coming  out  in  the  Forty- three." 

"That,"  added  Robin  in  parenthesis,  "is 
why  my  second  name  is  Chalmers — after  the 
great  Doctor.  You  will  have  heard  of  him  ? " 

(Polite  but  insincere  chorus  of  pleased  recog- 
nition.) 

We  were  then  treated  to  a  brief  resume  of 
the  events  leading  up  to  a  religious  controversy 
of  colossal  dimensions  which  was  at  that  moment 
threatening  to  engulf  Scotland.  Robin  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  matter,  and  gave  us 
his  reasons  for  being  so.  He  passed  some 
scathing  comments  on  the  contumacy  and 
narrow-mindedness  of  the  sect  who  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  his  opponents ;  and  after 
that  he  proceeded  to  say  a  few  words  about 
Free  Will  and  Predestination. 

By   this    time    lunch   was    over,   but   we    sat 


A  Trial  Trip  55 

on.  I  nodded  gravely  over  my  coffee,  saying 
"  Quite  so "  when  occasion  seemed  to  demand 
it.  Kitty  was  completely  out  of  her  depth, 
but  still  maintained  a  brave  appearance  of 
interest.  It  was  the  Twins  who  brought  the 
seance  to  a  close.  Placing  their  hands  before 
their  mouths,  they  with  difficulty  stifled  a 
pair  of  cavernous  yawns. 

Next  moment  they  were  sorry.  Robin 
stopped  dead,  flushed  up,  and  said — 

"Mrs  Inglethwaite,  I  am  sorry.  I  have 
been  most  inconsiderate  and  rude.  I  have 
wearied  you  all.  The  truth  is,"  he  continued 
quite  simply,  "it  is  so  long  since  I  sat  at 
meat  with  friends,  that  I  have  lost  the  art 
of  conversation.  I  just  run  on,  like  —  like  a 
leading  article.  I  have  not  conversed  with 
a  woman,  except  once  or  twice  across  a  counter, 
for  nearly  three  years." 

There  was  a  rather  tense  pause.  Then 
Dolly  said — 

"  We're  awfully  sorry,  Mr  Fordyce.  It 
was  very  rude  of  us.  We  quite  understand 
now,  don't  we,  Dilly?" 

"Rather,"  said  Dilly.  "It  was  horrible  of 
us,  Mr  Fordyce.  But  we  thought  you  were 
just  an  ordinary  bore." 


56  Raw  Material 

"Children!"  said  Kitty. 

"  But  what  you  have  told  us  makes  things 
quite  different,  doesn't  it,  Dolly  ? "  continued 
Dilly. 

"  Quite — absolutely,"  said  Dolly. 

And  they  smiled  upon  him,  quite  maternally. 
And  so  the  incident  passed. 

"  How  queer,  not  talking  to  a  woman  for 
three  years ! "  continued  Dolly  reflectively. 

"  How  awful  it  would  be  not  to  talk  to  a 
man  for  three  years ! "  said  Dilly,  with  obvious 
sincerity. 

"  There  is  little  opportunity  for  social  inter- 
course," said  Robin,  "to  a  man  who  comes 
to  London  to  sink  or  swim." 

The  conversation  was  again  taking  a  slightly 
sombre  turn,  and  I  struck  in — 

"  Well,  I  hope,  Mr  Fordyce,  that  a  few 
weeks'  experience  of  my  establishment  won't 
have  the  effect  of  making  you  regret  your 
previous  celibate  existence." 

Dolly  and  Dilly  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Dolly,"  said  Dilly,  "  is  that  an  insult  ? "  ' 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Insulting  enough  to  be  punishable  ? " 

"  Rather." 

"All  right.     Come  on!" 


A  Trial  Trip  57 

They  fell  upon  me,  and  the  next  few  minutes 
were  devoted  to  what  I  believe  is  known  in 
pantomime  circles  as  a  Grand  Rally,  which 
necessitated  my  going  upstairs  afterwards  and 
changing  my  collar. 

Robin  was  not  present  at  tea,  and  my  house- 
hold took  advantage  of  his  absence  to  run 
over  his  points. 

Considering  that  a  woman  —  especially  a 
young  woman — judges  a  man  almost  entirely 
by  his  manner  and  appearance,  and  dislikes 
him  exceedingly  if  he  proceeds  to  dominate 
the  situation  to  her  exclusion — unless,  by  the 
way,  he  has  her  permission  and  authority  so 
to  do,  in  which  case  he  cannot  do  so  too  much 
— the  verdict  delivered  upon  my  absent  secre- 
tary was  not  by  any  means  unfavourable, 
though,  of  course,  there  was  much  to  criticise. 

"He'll  do,"  said  Dilly;  "but  you  must  get 
his  hair  cut,  Adrian." 

"  And  tell  him  about  not  wearing  that  sort 
of  tie,  dear,"  said  Dolly. 

"  I  suppose  he  can't  help  his  accent,"  sighs 
Kitty. 

But  their  criticisms  were  limited  to  such 
trifles  as  these,  and  I  felt  that  Robin  had 
done  me  credit. 


58  Raw  Material 

Dilly  summed  up  the  situation. 

"  I  think  on  the  whole  that  he  is  rather  a 
pet,"  she  said. 

A  more  thoroughly  unsuitable  description  could 
not  have  been  imagined,  but  Dolly  agreed. 

"  He  has  nice  eyes,  too,"  she  added. 

"He  was  perfectly  sweet  with  Phillis  after 
lunch,"  said  Kitty.  "Took  her  on  his  knee  at 
once,  and  talked  to  her  just  as  if  we  weren't 
there.  That's  a  good  test  of  a  man,  if  you 
like ! " 

"True  for  you,1'  I  agreed.  "I  could  not  do 
it  with  other  people's  children  to  save  my  life." 

"Oh,  you  are  hopeless,"  said  Dilly.  "Far 
too  self-conscious  and  dignified  to  climb  down 
to  the  level  of  children,  isn't  he,  Dolly  ? "  She 
crinkled  her  nose. 

Dolly  for  once  was  not  listening. 

"  What  was  that  weird  stuff  the  Secretary 
Bird  spouted  when  you  showed  Phillis  to  him, 
Kit  ?  About  her  being  forward,  or  coy,  or 
something.  It  sounded  rather  cheek,  to  me." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Dilly.  "Can  you 
do  the  way  he  said  it  ?  '  Sometimes  forrrwarrrd, 
sometimes  coy,  she  neverrr  fails  to  pullllease ! ' 
Like  that !  Gracious,  how  it  hurts  to  talk 
Scotch!" 


A  Trial  Trip  59 

"  I  don't  know,  dear,"  said  my  wife  thought- 
fully. "  It  sounded  rather  quaint.  But  I 
daresay  all  Scotch  people  are  like  that,"  she 
added  charitably. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  a  quotation,"  I  observed 
mildly. 

"  Of  course,  that  would  be  it.  What  is  it 
out  of?" 

"  A  song  called  '  Phillis  is  my  only  Joy/  I 
think." 

"Ah,  then  you  may  depend  upon  it,"  said 
Kitty,  with  the  air  of  one  solving  a  mystery, 
"  that  is  what  the  man  was  doing  —  quoting ! 
Burns,  probably,  or  Scott,  perhaps.  How  clever 
of  him  to  think  of  it !  And  do  you  know," 
she  continued,  "  he  said  such  a  nice  thing  to 
me.  While  you  were  bear -fighting  with  the 
Twins  after  lunch,  Adrian,  I  said  to  him  :  '  Pity 
me,  Mr  Fordyce !  My  husband  never  ceases 
to  express  to  me  his  regret  that  he  did  not 
marry  one  of  my  sisters.'  And  he  answered 
at  once,  quite  seriously,  without  stopping  to 
think  it  out  or  anything: — 'I  am  sure,  Mrs 
Inglethwaite,  that  his  regret  must  be  shared 
by  countless  old  admirers  of  yours ! '  Wasn't 
it  rather  sweet  of  him  ? " 

Further   conversation  was    prevented   by   the 


60  Raw  Material 

opening  of  the  drawing  -  room  door,  where 
the  butler  appeared  and  announced  "  Mr 
Dubberley." 

Dubberley  is  a  pillar  of  our  party.  I  can  best 
describe  him  by  saying  that  although  I  hold 
office  under  a  Conservative  Government,  ten 
minutes'  conversation  with  Dubberley  leaves 
me  a  confirmed  Radical,  and  anything  like  a 
protracted  interview  with  him  converts  me  into 
a  Socialist  for  the  next  twenty -four  hours.  A 
week-end  in  his  society,  and  I  should  probably 
buy  a  red  shirt  and  send  out  for  bombs.  He  is  a 
good  fellow  at  bottom,  and  of  immense  service 
to  the  party ;  but  he  is  the  most  blatant  ass 
I  have  ever  met.  There  are  Dubberleys  on 
both  sides  of  the  House,  however,  which  is  a 
comfort. 

Robin  joined  us  almost  directly  after  Dubber- 
ley's  entrance,  just  in  time  to  hear  that  great 
man  conclude  the  preamble  of  his  discourse  for 
the  afternoon. 

There  had  been  a  good  deal  of  talk  in  the 
papers  of  late  about  improving  the  means  of 
transport  throughout  the  country ;  and  the 
nationalisation  of  railways  and  other  semi  - 
socialistic  schemes  had  filled  the  air.  Dubber- 
ley, it  appeared,  had  out  of  his  own  gigantic 


A  Trial  Trip  61 

intellect    evolved    a    panacea   for    congestion    of 
traffic,  highness  of  rates,  and  railway  mortality. 

He  was  well  launched  in  his  subject  when 
Robin  entered  and  was  introduced. 

"  As  I  was  saying,"  he  continued,  waving  an 
emphatic  teaspoon  in  the  direction  of  the  sofa 
where  the  ladies  sat,  smiling  but  limp,  —  even 
the  Twins  knew  it  was  useless  to  stem  this 
tide, — "as  I  was  saying,  the  solution  of  the 
problem  lies  in  the  revival  of  our  far-reaching 
but  sadly  neglected  system  of  canals.  Yes  !  If 
we  go  to  the  very  root  of  the  matter  "  — Dub- 
berley  is  one  of  those  fortunate  persons  who 
never  has  to  dig  far  in  his  researches  —  "we 
find  that  our  whole  hope  of  regeneration  lies  in 
the  single,  simple,  homely  word — Canals!  Re- 
vive your  canals,  send  your  goods  by  canal,  travel 
yourself  by " 

"  How  long,  Mr  Dubberley,"  interpolated 
Robin,  leaning  forward — "how  long  do  you 
consider  one  would  take  to  travel,  say,  a  hun- 
dred miles  by  canal  ? " 

"  Under  our  present  antiquated  system,  sir," 
— Dubberley  rather  prides  himself  on  preserving 
the  courtly  fashions  of  address  of  a  bygone  age, 
— "  an  impossibly  long  time.  The  average  speed 
of  a  canal -boat  at  the  present  day  under  the 


62  Raw  Material 

ministrations  of  that  overburdened  and  inade- 
quate quadruped,  the — er — horse,  is  three  miles 
per  hour.  Indeed — one  moment !  " 

Dubberley  fished  a  sheaf  of  documents  out 
of  his  pocket  —  he  is  the  sort  of  man  who 
habitually  secrets  statistics  and  blue-books 
about  his  person  —  and  after  stertorously  per- 
using them  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  as 
if  to  work  out  a  sum  upon  an  internal  black- 
board, and  said — 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  swift  canal  -  boats 
should  not  be  constructed  to  run  fifteen, 
twenty,  or  even  twenty  -  five  miles  per  hour. 
Indeed,  in  these  days  of  turbines ' 

Robin  put  down  his  cup  rather  emphatically, 
and  said — 

"  Mphm." 

(It  is  quite  impossible  to  reproduce  this  extra- 
ordinary Caledonian  expletive  in  writing,  but 
that  is  as  near  to  it  as  I  can  get.)  Then  he 
continued  urbanely — 

"  Then  you  would  organise  a  service  of  fast 
turbine  steamers  running  all  over  the  canal 
systems  of  the  country?" 

"  Exactly.  Or  let  us  say — er— launches,"  said 
Dubberley.  "  I  must  not  overstate  my  case." 

"  Travelling  twenty  miles  an  hour  ?  " 


A  Trial  Trip  63 

"Say  fifteen,  sir,"  said  Dubberley  magnani- 
mously. 

"  Mr  Dubberley,"  said  Robin,  in  a  voice  which 
made  us  all  jump,  "  have  you  a  bathroom  in 
your  house?" 

Even  the  Twins,  who  were  growing  a  trifle 
lethargic  under  the  technicalities  of  the  subject, 
roused  themselves  at  this  fresh  turn  of  the 
conversation. 

"Ah — eh — I  beg  your  pardon?"  said  Dubber- 
ley, a  trifle  disconcerted. 

"A  bathroom,"  repeated  Robin — "with  a  good 
long  bath  in  it  ? " 

"Er— yes." 

"  Well,  Mr  Dubberley,  when  you  go  home  this 
afternoon,  go  upstairs  and  fill  the  bath  with  water. 
Then  take  a  large  bath-sponge — something  nearly 
as  broad  as  the  bath — and  sweep  it  along  from  end 
to  end,  about  a  foot  below  the  surface,  at  a  speed 
of  fifteen  miles  per  hour — that  will  be  twenty-two 
feet  per  second — and  see  what  happens  ! " 

Robin  had  unconsciously  dropped  into  what 
I  may  call  his  debating-society  manner.  His 
chin  stuck  out,  and  his  large  chest  heaved,  and 
he  scooped  the  air,  as  if  it  had  been  the  water  of 
Dubberley 's  bath,  with  one  of  Kitty's  priceless 
Worcester  teacups. 


64  Raw  Material 

Dubberley  sat  completely  demoralised,  palpitat- 
ing like  a  stranded  frog. 

"  Then,"  continued  Robin,  "  you  would  observe 
the  result  of  placing  a  partly  submerged  and 
rapidly  moving  body  in  a  shallow  and  restricted 
waterway.  You  would  kick  half  the  water  right 
out  of  the  canal  to  begin  with,  and  the  other 
half  would  pile  itself  up  into  a  wave  under 
your  bow  big  enough  to  offer  an  almost  im- 
movable resistance  to  the  progress  of  your 
vessel." 

He  leaned  back  and  surveyed  the  bemused 
Dubberley  with  complete  and  obvious  satis- 
faction. We  all  sat  round  breathless,  feeling 
much  as  Sidney  Smith  must  have  felt  when 
some  one  spoke  disrespectfully  of  the  Equator. 
Great  was  the  fall  of  Dubberley.  He  moved, 
perhaps  instinctively,  in  a  society  where  he 
was  seldom  contradicted  and  never  argued  with. 
One  does  not  argue  with  a  gramophone.  And 
here  this  raw  Scottish  youth,  with  the  awful 
thoroughness  and  relentless  common -sense  of 
his  race,  had  taken  the  very  words  out  of  his 
mouth,  torn  them  to  shreds,  and  thrust  them 
down  his  throat. 

I  am  afraid  I  chuckled.  The  Twins  sat  hand 
in  hand,  with  dreamy  eyes  staring  straight  before 


A  Trial  Trip  65 

them.  They  were  conjuring  up  a  joyous  vision 
of  Dubberley,  in  his  shirt  -  sleeves,  meekly  re- 
futing one  of  his  own  theories  by  means  of 
a  childish  and  sloppy  experiment  in  practical 
hydrodynamics  in  his  own  bathroom. 

I  give  this  incident  as  a  fair  example  of 
Robin's  point  of  view  and  methods  of  action 
on  questions  which  I  for  one  would  never  dream 
of  debating.  He  was  entirely  lacking  in  an  art 
which  I  am  told  I  possess  to  perfection — that  of 
suffering  fools  gladly.  Its  possession  has  raised 
me  to  an  Under  -  Secretaryship.  People  who 
should  know  tell  me  that  it  will  also  prevent 
my  ever  rising  to  anything  higher. 

"We  had  a  taste  of  our  friend's  quality  this 
afternoon,"  I  remarked  to  my  household  when 
we  met  for  dinner  that  evening.  "  He  is  a 
thorough-going  warrior.  Fancy  any  man  taking 
all  that  trouble  to  lay  out  old  Dubberley  ! " 

"Poor  Mr  Dubberley!"  said  tender-hearted 
Kitty. 

"  Do  him  good  ! "  said  Dilly,  in  whose  recollec- 
tion Dubberley's  past  enormities  loomed  large. 
"I  shall  be  nice  to  the  Secretary  Bird  now." 

Dolly  said  nothing,  which  was  unusual.  Per- 
haps the  brown  spot  still  rankled. 

E 


66 


CHAPTER    FIVE. 

ROBIN    ON    DUTY. 

BEYOND  the  fact  that  they  are  all  desperately 
in  earnest,  all  know  each  other,  and  occupy  all 
the  most  responsible  and  lucrative  posts  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  Scotsmen  are  a  class  with 
whose  characteristics  I  am  not  well  acquainted. 
But  I  learned  a  great  deal  from  my  new 
secretary. 

Robin  soon  settled  down  to  work.  He  not 
only  performed  his  duties  with  zeal  and  dis- 
cretion, but  he  kept  me  up  to  mine.  He 
hounded  me  through  the  routine  work  of 
my  Department ;  he  verified  my  references ;  he 
managed  my  correspondence ;  and  he  frequently 
drafted  my  speeches.  He  even  prepared  some 
of  my  impromptus.  Indeed,  my — or  rather  his 
— description  of  a  certain  member  of  the  other 
side,  a  lesser  light  of  the  last  Government,  a 
worthy  man,  always  put  up  to  explain  matters 


Robin  on  Duty  67 

when  his  leader  had  decided  that  honesty  on 
this  occasion  was  the  best  policy,  as  "  a  political 
niblick,  always  employed  to  get  his  party  out 
of  bad  lies,"  won  me  more  applause  and  popu- 
larity in  a  House  of  enthusiastic  golfers  than 
endless  weeks  of  honest  toil  behind  the  scenes 
had  ever  done. 

But  I  learned  more  from  Robin  than  that.  I 
suppose  I  am  a  typical  specimen  of  Conservative 
officialdom.  Until  Robin  came  into  my  house  it 
had  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  myself  why  I 
was  a  Conservative :  I  had  been  born  one,  and 
it  was  difficult  for  me  to  understand  how  any 
man  of  ordinary  intelligence  could  be  anything 
else. 

My  father  and  grandfather  were  Conservative 
members  before  me,  and  I  come  of  a  line  which 
has  always  feared  God,  honoured  the  King,  paid 
its  tithes,  and  tried  to  do  something  for  the 
poor ;  and  which  regards  Radicals,  Socialists, 
Nonconformists,  and  criminal  lunatics  as  much 
the  same  class  of  person.  The  only  difference 
between  myself  and  my  forebears  is  that  I  am 
much  too  pacific  (or  lazy)  to  cherish  any 
animosity  against  people  whose  views  differ 
from  my  own.  This  fact,  coupled  with  certain 
family  traditions,  has  brought  me  to  my  present 


68  Raw  Material 

position  in  life ;  and,  as  I  have  already  indi- 
cated, it  will  probably  keep  me  there.  At 
least,  so  Kitty  says. 

"  You  must  assert  yourself,  dear,"  she  declares. 
"  Be  rude  to  people,  and  go  on  being  rude ! 
Then  they  will  take  notice  of  you  and  give 
you  nice  big  posts  to  keep  you  quiet.  Do  you 
know  what  the  Premier  said  about  you  the 
other  night  at  dinner,  to  Lady  Bindle  ?  (She 
told  Dicky  Lever,  and  he  told  the  Twins.) 
'  Inglethwaite  ?  A  dear  fellow,  a  sound  party 
man,  and  runs  his  Department  admirably.  But 
— he  strikes  only  on  the  box  ! '  Pig ! " 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Robin  became 
a  member  of  our  establishment.  I  had  no  idea 
what  his  political  views  were — it  was  just  like 
me  not  to  have  asked  him,  Kitty  said  —  but 
felt  confident  that  whatever  side  he  supported 
he  would  do  so  hot  and  strong. 

But  at  first  he  gave  no  indication  of  his 
leanings.  It  was  not  until  we  sat  one  night 
over  our  wine,  in  company  with  John  Champion 
(member  for  a  big  northern  constituency,  and 
regarded  by  many,  notwithstanding  various 
eccentricities,  as  the  coming  man  of  the  party) 
that  he  first  gave  definite  utterance  to  his 
views. 


Robin  on  Duty  69 

The  cigars  had  gone  round,  and  we  had  just 
performed  that  mysterious  national  rite  which, 
whether  it  owes  its  existence  to  economy  or 
politeness,  invariably  ends  in  several  people 
burning  their  fingers  with  the  same  match. 

"  I  suppose,  Mr  Fordyce,"  said  Champion, 
who  had  not  met  Robin  before,  but  obviously 
liked  him,  "  that  in  common  with  all  Scotsmen 
you  are  at  heart  a  Radical." 

"  Am  I  ? "  said  Robin,  with  native  caution. 

"Most  of  your  countrymen  are,"  said  Cham- 
pion, with  a  sigh.  "  '  They  think  too  much ' 
— you  know  the  rest  of  the  quotation,  I  expect." 

Robin  nodded. 

I  was  a  little  scandalised  at  this  flagrant 
tribute  to  the  enemy,  and  said  so. 

Champion  laughed. 

"  You  are  a  whole  -  hearted  old  war  -  horse, 
Adrian.  I  envy  you.  Sometimes,  I  wish 
that  I " 

"  For  mercy's  sake  don't  go  and  say  that 
you  are  a  Radical  at  heart  too,"  I  cried. 

"N-n-o.  But  isn't  it  rot,  the  whole 
business  ? " 

"  What  whole  business  1 " 

"  Ask  Mr  Fordyce  there.  He  will  tell  you. 
I  see  it  in  his  eye." 


70  Raw  Material 

"What  is  rot,  Robin?"  I  asked.  "Party 
government  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Robin,  quite  explosively  for  him. 
"It  is  such  a  scandalous  waste  of  power  and 
material."  He  laid  down  his  cigar.  "  Man, 
it's  just  pitiful.  Consider !  A  party  is  re- 
turned to  office.  With  great  care  and  dis- 
crimination a  Cabinet  is  chosen.  It  is  composed 
of  men  who  are  mainly  honest  and  patriotic. 
They  are  not  necessarily  men  of  genius,  but 
they  are  all  men  of  undoubted  ability,  and 
they  are  genuinely  anxious  to  do  their  duty 
by  the  country.  Now  observe."  (As  a  matter 
of  fact  he  said  "  obsairrve.")  "  How  is  this 
energy  and  ability  expended?  About  half  of 
it — fifty  per  cent — goes  in  devising  means  to 
baffle  the  assaults  of  the  Opposition  and  so  re- 
tain a  precarious  hold  on  office.  Sir,  it's  just 
ludicrous !  Instead  of  concentrating  their  efforts 
upon — upon — I  want  a  metaphor,  Mr  Champion." 

"  Upon  steering  the  ship  of  State,"  said  Cham- 
pion, with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"That'll  do,  fine. — Upon  steering  the  ship 
of  State,  they  have  to  devote  half  their  time 
and  energy  to  dodging  the  missiles  of  their 
shipmates.  That  is  what  I  mean  when  I  say 
the  thing  is  pitiful.  What  should  we  think 


Robin  on  Duty  71 

of  the  sanity  of  an  ordinary  ship's  company, 
if  the  man  at  the  wheel  had  to  spend  half  his 
time  up  in  the  rigging  because  a  minority  of  his 
messmates  wanted  to  throw  him  overboard  ? " 

"I  think  you  are  putting  the  case  too 
strongly,"  I  said.  "  The  criticism  of  a  healthy 
public  opinion  is  no  bad  thing.  Besides,  your 
Cabinet  still  have  fifty  per  cent  of  their  energy 
left.  What  do  they  do  with  that?" 

"  Of  that,"  said  Champion,  joining  in,  "  about 
forty  per  cent  is  wasted  on  mere  parade — dummy 
legislation — bills  that  never  will  be  passed,  and 
which  no  sensible  man  has  any  desire  should 
be  passed,  except  in  a  mutilated  and  useless 
condition  ;  bills  merely  brought  forward  by  the 
Government  as  a  sop  to  the  extreme  wing  of 
their  own  party.  It  doesn't  matter  which  side 
is  in  power.  If  they  are  Liberals,  they  have 
to  propose  a  few  socialistic  and  iconoclastic 
measures,  secretly  thanking  God  for  the  House 
of  Lords  all  the  while.  If  they  are  Conserva- 
tives, they  propitiate  the  Landlords  and  the 
Church  by  putting  forward  some  outrageously 
retrograde  proposal  or  other,  secure  in  the 
knowledge  that  it  will  be  knocked  on  the 
head  by  the  halfpenny  papers.  Of  the  re- 
maining ten  per  cent " 


72  Raw  Material 

"About  nine,"  resumed  Robin,  "is  appropri- 
ated automatically  to  absolutely  essential  routine 
business,  like  the  Budget  and  Supply " 

"And  tbe  remaining  one  per  cent,"  struck  in 
Champion,  "is  devoted  to  real  live  Legislation." 

Then  they  both  looked  at  me,  this  pair  of 
carping  pessimists,  rather  furtively,  like  two  fags 
who  have  allowed  their  tongues  to  wag  over 
freely  in  the  presence  of  a  monitor.  It  was 
a  curious  tribute  to  the  power  of  officialdom, 
for  they  were  both  far  bigger  men,  in  every 
sense,  than  I.  Finally  Champion  laughed. 

"Don't  look  so  horrified,  Adrian,"  he  said. 
"Mr  Fordyce  and  I  croak  too  much.  Still,  you 
will  find  a  grain  or  two  of  sense  among  the 
chaff,  as  Jack  Point  says." 

But  I  was  not  to  be  smoothed  down  so 
easily. 

"According  to  you  fellows,"  I  grumbled,  as 
I  passed  the  port,  "  there  is  practically  no  dif- 
ference between  one  political  party  and  another." 

"  None  whatever,"  said  Champion  cheerfully — 
"  not  between  the  backbones  of  the  parties,  that 
is.  Of  course  excrescences  don't  count.  Tell  me, 
Adrian,  what  bill,  barring  one  or  two  contentious 
semi-religious  measures,  has  ultimately  reached 
the  Statute  Book  during  the  last  twenty  years 


Robin  on  Duty  73 

that  might  not  have  been  put  there  by  either 
party  without  any  violent  departure  from  its 
principles  ?  Not  one  !  Foreign  policy,  again. 
Does  it  make  any  difference  to  our  position  in 
the  world  which  party  is  in  office  nowadays? 
Not  a  scrap.  The  difference  between  the  two 
sides  is  immaterial.  There  is  often  a  far  deeper 
line  of  cleavage  between  two  sections  of  the  same 
party  than  between  party  and  party.  We  make 
faces  at  each  other,  it  is  true ;  and  one  side 
plumes  itself  on  the  moral  support  of  Royalty 
and  the  aristocracy,  while  the  other  always  bawls 
out  that  it  has  the  inviolable  will  of  the  people 
at  its  back, — I  daresay  one  assertion  is  about  as 
true  as  the  other — but  I  don't  think  there  is  a 
pennyworth  of  difference,  really.  There  used  to 
be  a  lot,  mind  you,  when  the  Plebs  were  really 
struggling  for  a  footing  in  the  scheme  of  things ; 
but  bless  you !  we  are  all  more  or  less  in  the 
same  crowd  now.  Just  a  difference  of  label, 
that's  all." 

"  There  was  a  story  my  dominie  used  to  tell," 
said  Robin,  who  had  been  listening  to  this  dia- 
tribe with  rapt  attention,  "  about  a  visitor  to  a 
seaside  hotel,  who  ordered  a  bottle  of  wine.  The 
boy  brought  up  the  wrong  kind,  so  the  visitor 
sent  for  the  landlord  and  pointed  out  the 


74  Raw  Material 

mistake,  adducing  the  label  on  the  bottle  as 
evidence.  '  I'm  very  sorry,  sir,  I'm  sure,'  said 
the  landlord,  '  but  I'll  soon  put  it  right.  Boy, 
bring  another  label ! '  An  old  story,  I  am  afraid, 
but  it  seems  to  me  to  put  Party  goverment  into 
a  nutshell." 

I  rose,  and  began  to  replace  the  stoppers  in 
the  decanters.  I  was  feeling  rather  cross.  I 
hate  having  my  settled  convictions  tampered 
with.  They  are  not  elastic,  and  this  makes 
them  brittle,  and  I  always  feel  nervous  about 
their  stability  when  the  intellectual  pressure  of 
an  argument  grows  intense. 

"  When  you  two  have  abolished  the  British 
Constitution,"  I  remarked  tartly,  "  what  do  you 
propose  to  substitute  for  the  present  regime?" 

"  '  There,' "  said  Champion,  "  as  the  charwoman 
replied  when  asked  for  a  character,  '  you  'ave  me.' 
Let  us  join  the  ladies." 

But  I  was  still  angry. 

"It  always  seems  best  to  me,"  I  persisted 
doggedly,  "to  take  up  a  good  sound  line  of 
action  and  stick  to  it,  and  to  choose  a  good 
sound  party  and  stick  to  that.  Half  a  glass  of 
sherry  before  we  go  upstairs  ? " 

"No,  thanks.  That  is  why  I  envy  you, 
Adrian,"  said  Champion.  "  It's  a  wearing 


Robin  on  Duty  75 

business  for  us,  being  so — so — what  shall  we 
call  it,  Mr  Fordyce  ? " 

"  Detached  ? "  suggested  Robin. 

"That's  it." 

"  Two-faced  would  be  a  better  word,"  I 
growled. 

Champion  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Adrian,"  said  he,  "  in  time  of  peace  there 
is  always  a  large,  critical,  neutral,  and  infernally 
irritating  party,  for  ever  philandering  betwixt 
and  between  two  extremes  of  opinion.  But 
when  war  is  declared  and  it  comes  to  a  fight, 
the  ranks  close  up.  There  is  no  room  for  de- 
tachment, and  there  are  no  neutrals.  When 
occasion  calls,  you'll  find  all  your  friends — your 
half-hearted,  carping,  Erastian  friends — ranged 
up  tight  beside  you.  Shall  we  be  trapesing 
about  in  Tom  Tiddler's  ground  when  the  pinch 
comes,  Mr  Fordyce — eh  ? " 

"  Never  fear  ! "  said  Robin. 

And  I  am  bound  to  say  that  we  all  of  us 
lived  to  see  John  Champion's  assertion  made 
good. 


76 


CHAPTER    SIX. 

ROBIN   OFF    DUTY. 

I  HAVE  yet  to  introduce  to  the  indulgent  reader 
two  more  members  of  the  family  into  which  I 
have  married. 

The  first  of  these  is  my  daughter  Phillis,  of 
whom  I  have  already  made  passing  mention. 
She  is  six  years  old,  and  appears  to  be  com- 
pounded of  about  equal  parts  of  angelic  inno- 
cence and  original  sin.  In  her  dealings  with  her 
fellow -creatures  she  exhibits  all  the  sangfroid 
and  self-possession  that  mark  the  modern  child. 
She  will  be  a  "handful"  some  day,  the  Twins 
tell  me,  and  they  ought  to  know.  However, 
pending  the  arrival  of  the  time  when  she  will 
begin  to  rend  the  hearts  of  young  men,  she 
contents  herself  for  the  present  with  practising 
that  accomplishment  with  complete  and  lament- 
able success  upon  her  own  garments. 

She  is  the   possessor  of  a  vivid  imagination, 


Robin  off  Duty  77 

which  she  certainly  does  not  inherit  from  me, 
and  is  fond  of  impersonating  other  people,  either 
characters  of  her  own  creation  or  interesting 
figures  from  story-books.  Consequently  it  is 
never  safe  to  address  her  too  suddenly.  She 
may  be  a  fairy,  or  a  bear,  or  a  locomotive  at 
the  moment,  and  will  resent  having  to  return 
to  her  proper  self,  even  for  a  brief  space,  merely 
to  listen  to  some  stupid  and  irrelevant  remark 
— usually  something  about  bedtime  or  an  open 
door — from  an  unintelligent  adult. 

Kitty  says  that  I  spoil  her,  but  that  is  only 
because  Kitty  is  quicker  at  saying  a  thing  than 
I  am.  She  is  our  only  child ;  and  I  sometimes 
wonder,  at  moments  of  acute  mental  introspec- 
tion (say,  in  the  night  watches  after  an  indi- 
gestible supper),  what  we  should  do  without 
her. 

The  other  character  waiting  for  introduction 
is  my  brother-in-law,  Master  Gerald  Kubislaw. 
He  is  the  solitary  male  member  of  the  family 
of  which  my  wife  and  the  Twins  form  the  female 
side.  He  is,  I  think,  fourteen  years  of  age,  and 
he  is  at  present  a  member  of  what  he  considers — 
very  rightly,  I  think ;  and  I  should  know,  for  I 
was  there  myself — the  finest  public  school  in  the 
world.  Having  no  parents,  he  resides  at  my 


78  Raw  Material 

house  during  his  holidays,  and  refreshes  me 
exceedingly. 

He  is  a  sturdy  but  rather  diminutive  youth, 
with  a  loud  voice.  (He  always  addresses  me  as 
if  I  were  standing  on  a  distant  hill- top.)  He 
bears  a  resemblance  to  his  sisters  of  which  he 
is  heartily  and  frankly  ashamed,  and  which  he 
endeavours  at  times  to  nullify  as  far  as  possible 
by  a  degree  of  personal  uncleanline*  which 
would  be  alarming  to  me,  were  it  not  that 
the  traditions  of  my  own  extreme  youth  have 
not  yet  been  entirely  obliterated  from  my 
memory. 

His  health  is  excellent,  and  his  intellect  is 
in  that  condition  euphemistically  described  in 
house  -  master's  reports  as  "unformed."  He  is 
always  noisy,  constitutionally  lazy,  and  hope- 
lessly casual.  But  he  possesses  the  supreme 
merit  of  being  absolutely  and  transparently 
honest.  I  have  never  known  him  tell  a  lie  or 
do  a  mean  thing.  To  such  much  is  forgiven. 

At  present  he  appears  to  possess  only  two 
ambitions  in  life ;  one,  to  gain  a  place  in  his 
Junior  House  Fifteen,  and  the  other,  to  score 
some  signal  and  lasting  victory  over  his  form- 
master,  a  Mr  Sydney  Mellar,  with  whom  he 
appears  to  wage  a  sort  of  perpetual  guerilla 


Robin  off  Duty  79 

warfare.  Every  vacation  brings  him  home  with 
a  fresh  tale  of  base  subterfuges,  petty  tyrannies, 
and  childish  exhibitions  of  spite  on  the  part  of 
the  infamous  Mellar,  all  duly  frustrated,  crushed, 
and  made  ridiculous  by  the  ingenuity,  resource, 
and  audacity  of  the  intrepid  Rubislaw.  I  have 
never  met  Mr  Mellar  in  the  flesh,  but  I  am 
conscious,  as  time  goes  on  and  my  young 
relative's  reminiscences  on  the  subject  accumu- 
late, of  an  increasing  feeling  of  admiration  and 
respect  for  him. 

"  He's  a  rotten  brute,"  observed  Gerald  one 
day.  "  Do  you  know  what  he  had  the  cheek 
to  do  last  term  ? " 

"What?" 

"Well,  there  was  a  clinking  new  desk  put 
into  our  form-room,  at  the  back.  I  sit  there," 
he  added  rather  naively.  "As  soon  as  I  saw 
it,  of  course  I  got  out  my  knife  and  started  to 
carve  my  name.  I  made  good  big  letters,  as  I 
wanted  to  do  the  thing  properly  on  a  fine  new 
desk  like  that." 

"  Was  this  during  school  hours  ? "  I  ventured 
to  inquire. 

"  Of  course  ifc  was.  Do  you  think  a  chap 
would  be  such  a  silly  ass  as  to  want  to  come 
in  specially  to  carve  his  name  during  play-hours, 


8o  Raw  Material 

when  he's  got  the  whole  of  his  school-time  to  do 
it  in?" 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  I  said  apologeti- 
cally. 

"And  don't  go  putting  on  side  of  that  sort, 
Adrian,  old  man,"  roared  Gerald,  in  what  a 
stranger  would  have  regarded  as  a  most  threat- 
ening voice,  though  I  knew  it  was  merely  the 
one  he  keeps  for  moments  of  playful  badinage. 
"  I  saw  your  name  carved  in  letters  about  four 
inches  high  in  the  Fifth  Form  room  only  the 
other  day.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  jaw  a  man 
for  doing  a  thing  you  used  to  do  yourself  thirty 
or  forty  years  ago." 

I  allowed  this  reflection  on  my  appearance  to 
pass  without  protest,  and  Gerald  resumed  his 
story. 

"Well,  I  did  a  first-class  G  to  begin  with, 
and  was  well  on  with  the  Rubislaw  —  all  in 
capitals :  I  thought  it  would  look  best  that 
way  —  when  suddenly  a  great  hand  reached 
over  my  shoulder  and  grabbed  my  knife.  It 
was  Stinker,  of  course." 

"St " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  th^.  We  call  him 
'Stinker'  now.  You  see,  his  name  is  S.  Mellar, 
and  if  you  say  it  quickly  it  sounds  like  '  Smeller.' 


Robin  off  Duty  81 

So  we  call  him  '  Stinker/  It  was  a  kid  called 
Lane  thought  of  it.  Pretty  smart — eh  ?  Oh, 
he's  a  clever  chap,  I  can  tell  you,"  yelled  Gerald, 
with  sincere  enthusiasm. 

"  He  must  be  a  youth  of  gigantic  intellect,"  I 
said. 

"Oh,  come  off  the  roof!  Well,  Stinker 
grabbed  my  knife,  and  said,  '  Hallo,  young 
man,  what's  all  this  ?  Handing  down  your 
name  to  posterity — eh  ? '  with  a  silly  grin  on 
his  face. 

"  I  said  I  was  just  carving  my  name. 

"  '  I  see  you  have  just  finished  it/  he  said. 

"  I  didn't  quite  tumble  to  his  meaning  at  first, 
because  I  had  only  got  as  far  as  G.  BUB, — and 
then  I  saw  that  the  whole  thing  as  it  stood 
spelled  '  GRUB.'  Lord,  how  the  swine  laughed  ! 
He  told  the  form  all  about  it,  and  of  course  they 
all  laughed  too,  the  sniggering,  grovelling  sweeps ! 

"  Then  Stinker  said  :  *  A  happy  thought  has 
just  occurred  to  me.  I  shall  not  have  your  name 
obliterated  in  the  usual  manner ' — they  cut  it  out 
and  put  in  a  fresh  bit  of  wood,  and  charge  you 
a  bob — '  this  time.  I  have  thought  of  a  more 
excellent  way.'  (He  always  talks  like  that,  in  a 
sort  of  slow  drawl.)  '  We  will  leave  your  name 
exactly  as  you  have  carved  it.  But  remember, 


82  Raw  Material 

young  man,  not  another  letter  do  you  add  to 
that  name  so  long  as  you  are  a  member  of  this 
school.  A  Grub  you  are, — a  nasty  little  de- 
structive Grub, — and  a  Grub  you  shall  remain, 
so  far  as  that  desk  is  concerned,  for  all  time. 
And  if  ever  in  future  years  you  come  down  here 
as  a  distinguished  Old  Boy — say  a  K.C.B.  or  an 
Alderman, — remember  to  bring  your  numerous 
progeny' — oh,  he's  a  sarcastic  devil! — 'to  this 
room,  and  show  them  what  their  papa  once  was  ! ' 

"  Of  course  all  the  chaps  roared  again,  at  the 
idea  of  me  with  a  lot  of  kids.  But  that  wasn't 
all.  He  switched  off  that  tap  quite  suddenly, 
and  said — 

" '  Seriously,  though,  I  am  not  pleased  about 
this.  Carving  your  name  on  a  desk  is  not  one 
of  the  seven  deadly  sins,  but  doing  so  when  I 
have  told  you  not  to  is.  This  silly  street-boy 
business  has  been  getting  too  prevalent  lately : 
we  shall  have  you  chalking  things  up  on  the 
walls  next.  I  particularly  gave  out  last  week, 
when  this  new  desk  was  put  in,  that  no  one  was 
to  touch  it.  Come  to  me  at  twelve,  and  I  will 
cane  you.'  And  he  did"  concluded  Gerald,  with 
feeling. 

"  What  a  shame  ! "  said  Dilly,  who  was  sitting 
by.  "  All  for  carving  a  silly  old  desk." 


Robin  off  Duty  83 

"He  was  perfectly  right,"  said  Gerald,  his 
innate  sense  of  justice  rising  to  the  surface  at 
once.  "  I  wasn't  lammed  for  cutting  the  desk 
at  all :  it  was  for  doing  it  after  I  had  been 
told  not  to." 

"  It's  the  same  thing,"  said  Dilly,  with 
feminine  disregard  for  legal  niceties. 

"  Same  thing  ?  Hot !  Fat  lot  you  know  about 
it,  Dilly.  It's  a  rum  thing,"  he  added  to  me 
in  a  reflective  bawl,  "  but  women  never  can 
understand  the  rules  of  any  game.  Stinker  is 
a  bargee,  but  he  was  quite  right  to  lam  me. 
It  was  for  disobedience ;  and  disobedience  is 
cheek ;  and  no  master  worth  his  salt  will  stand 
cheek.  So  Stinker  says,  and  he  is  right  for 
once." 

Gerald  is  the  possessor  of  a  bosom  friend,  an 
excessively  silent  and  rather  saturnine  youth  of 
about  his  own  age.  His  name  is  Donkin,  and 
he  regards  Gerald,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  with 
a  grim  mixture  of  amusement  and  compassion. 
He  pays  frequent  visits  to  my  house,  as  his 
father  is  a  soldier  in  India ;  and  he  is  much 
employed  by  the  Twins  for  corroborating  or 
refuting  the  more  improbable  of  their  brother's 
reminiscences. 

Robin  soon  made  friends  with  the  boys.     Like 


84  Raw  Material 

most  of  their  kind,  their  tests  of  human  probity 
were  few  and  simple :  and  having  discovered 
that  Robin  not  only  played  Rugby  football,  but 
had  on  several  occasions  represented  Edinburgh 
University  thereat,  they  straightway  wrote  him 
down  a  "  decent  chap  "  and  took  the  rest  of  his 
virtues  for  granted. 

It  came  upon  them — and  me  too,  as  a  matter 
of  fact — as  rather  a  shock  one  evening,  when 
Robin,  during  the  course  of  a  desultory  con- 
versation on  education  in  general,  suddenly 
launched  forth  more  suo  into  a  diatribe  against 
the  English  Public  School  system. 

English  boys,  he  pointed  out,  were  passed 
through  a  great  machine,  which  ground  up  the 
individual  at  one  end  and  disgorged  a  mere 
type  at  the  other — ("  Pretty  good  type  too, 
Robin,"  from  me), — they  were  taught  to  worship 
bodily  strength — ("  Quite  right  too ! "  said  my 
herculean  brother-in-law), — they  were  herded 
together  under  a  monastic  system ;  they  were 
removed  from  the  refining  influence  of  female 
society — (even  the  imperturable  Donkin  snorted 
at  this), — and  worst  of  all,  little  or  nothing 
was  done  to  eradicate  from  their  minds  the 
youthful  idea  that  it  is  unmanly  to  read  seri- 
ously or  think  deeply. 


Robin  off  Duty  85 

I  might  have  said  a  good  deal  in  reply.  I 
might  have  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  the  English 
Public  School  system  is  not  so  hard  upon  the 
stupid  boy — which  means  the  average  boy — as 
that  of  more  strenuous  forcing- houses  of  intellect 
abroad.  I  might  have  spoken  of  one  or  two 
moral  agents  which  prevent  our  schools  from 
being  altogether  despicable  :  unquestioning  obedi- 
ence to  authority,  for  instance,  or  loyalty  to 
tradition.  I  might  have  told  of  characters 
moulded  and  fibres  stiffened  by  responsibility 
— our  race  bears  more  responsibility  on  its 
shoulders  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world  put 
together — or  of  minds  trained  to  interpret  laws 
and  balance  justice  in  the  small  but  exacting 
world  of  the  prefects'  meeting  and  the  games' 
committee.  But  it  was  Gerald,  who  is  no 
moralist,  but  a  youth  of  sound  common -sense, 
who  closed  the  argument. 

"  Mr  Fordyce,"  he  said,  "  it's  no  use  my 
jawing  to  you,  because  you  can  knock  me  flat 
at  that  game  ;  and  of  course  old  Moke  there  " — 
this  was  Master  Donkin's  unhappy  but  inevit- 
able designation  among  his  friends  —  "is  too 
thick  to  argue  with  a  stuffed  rabbit ;  but  you 
had  better  come  down  some  time  and  see  the 
place — that's  all." 


86  Raw  Material 

Robin  promised  to  suspend  judgment  pending 
a  personal  investigation,  and  the  incident  closed. 

Gerald's  verdict  on  Robin's  views,  communi- 
cated to  me  privately  afterwards,  was  character- 
istic but  not  unfavourable. 

"  He  seems  to  have  perfectly  putrid  notions 
about  some  things,  but  he's  a  pretty  sound  chap 
on  the  whole — the  best  secretary  you  have  had, 
anyhow,  old  man.  Have  you  seen  him  do  a 
straight-arm  balance  on  the  billiard-table  ? " 

But  I  did  not  fully  realise  how  completely 
Robin  had  settled  down  as  an  accepted  member 
of  my  household  until  one  afternoon  towards 
the  end  of  the  Christmas  holidays. 

There  is  a  small  but  snug  apartment  open- 
ing out  of  my  library,  through  an  arched  and 
curtained  doorway.  The  library  is  regarded 
as  my  workroom — impregnable,  inviolable ;  not 
to  be  rudely  attempted  by  devastating  house- 
maids. There  is  a  sort  of  tacit  agreement 
between  Kitty  and  myself  as  regards  this 
apartment.  Fatima-like,  she  may  do  what  she 
pleases  with  the  rest  of  the  house.  She  may 
indulge  her  passion  for  drawing-room  meetings 
to  its  fullest  extent.  She  may  intertain  mis- 
sionaries in  the  attics  and  hold  meetings  of 
the  Dorcas  Society  in  the  basement.  She  may 


Robin  off  Duty  87 

give  reformed  burglars  the  run  of  the  silver- 
closet,  and  allow  curates  and  chorus-girls  to 
mingle  in  sweet  companionship  on  the  staircase. 
But  she  must  leave  the  library  alone,  and 
neither  she  nor  her  following  must  overflow 
through  its  double  doors  during  what  I  call 
business  hours. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  I  had  been  en- 
gaged upon  the  draft  of  a  small  bill  with  which 
I  had  been  entrusted  —  we  will  call  it  the 
"  Importation  of  Mad  Dogs  Bill," — and  about 
four  o'clock  I  handed  it  to  Robin  with  instruc- 
tions to  write  out  a  fair  copy.  Robin  retired 
into  his  inner  chamber,  and  I  sat  down  in  an 
arm-chair  with  Punch.  (It  was  a  Wednesday, 
the  Parliamentary  half-holiday  of  those  days, 
and  still,  happily,  the  Punch-day  of  these.) 

Kitty  was  holding  a  Drawing-room  Meeting 
upstairs.  I  forget  what  description  of  body  she 
was  entertaining :  it  was  either  a  Society  for 
the  Propagation  of  something  which  could  never, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  come  to  birth ;  or  else 
an  Association  for  the  Prevention  of  something 
that  was  bound  to  go  on  so  long  as  the  world 
endured.  I  had  been  mercifully  absolved  from 
attending,  and  my  tea  had  been  sent  in  to  me. 
I  was  enjoying  an  excellent  caricature  of  my 


88  Raw  Material 

Chief  in  the  minor  cartoon  of  Punch,  when  I 
heard  the  door  of  the  inner  room  open  and  the 
voice  of  my  daughter  inquire — 

"  Are  you  drefful  busy,  Uncle  Robin  ? "  (My 
secretary  had  been  elevated  to  avuncular  rank 
after  a  probation  of  just  three  hours.) 

There  was  a  sound  as  of  a  chair  being  pushed 
back,  and  a  rustle  which  suggested  the  hasty  lay- 
ing aside  of  a  manuscript,  and  Robin's  voice  said — 

"  Come  away,  Philly  I "  (This  is  a  favourite 
Scoticism  of  Robin's,  and  appears  to  be  a  term 
denoting  hearty  welcome.) 

There  was  a  delighted  squeal  and  the  sound 
of  pattering  feet.  Next  ensued  a  period  of 
rather  audible  osculation,  and  then  there  was 
silence.  Presently  Phillis  said — 

"What  shall  we  do?  Shall  I  sing  you  a 
hymn?" 

Evidently  the  revels  were  about  to  commence. 

"I  have  just  learned  a  new  one,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  beared  it  in  Church  yesterday 
afternoon,  so  I  brought  it  home  and  changed  it 
a  bit.  It's  called  '  Onward,  Chwistian  Sailors  ! ' ' 

"  '  Soldiers,'  isn't  it  ? " 

"No  —  'Sailors.'  It  was  'Soldiers,'  but  I 
like  sailors  much  better  than  soldiers,  so  I 
changed  it.  I'll  sing  it  now." 


Robin  off  Duty  89 

"  Wait  till  Sunday,"  said  Robin,  with  much 
presence  of  mind.  "  Will  you  not  tell  me  a 
story  ?  " 

This  idea  appeared  so  good  that  Phillis  began 
forthwith. 

"  Once  there  were  three  horses  what  lived  in 
a  stable.  Two  was  wise  and  one  was  just  a 
foolish  young  horse.  There  was  some  wolves 
what  lived  quite  near  the  stable " 

"Wolves?"  said  my  secretary,  in  tones  of 
mild  surprise. 

"  The  stable,"  explained  Phillis,  "  stood  in 
the  midst  of  the  snowy  plains  of  Muscovy.  I 
should  have  telled  you  that  before." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Robin  gravely.     "  Go  on." 

"  Well,  one  day,"  continued  the  narratress's 
voice  through  the  curtains — I  knew  the  story 
by  heart,  so  I  was  able  to  fill  up  the  gaps  for 
myself  when  she  dropped  to  a  confidential 
whisper — "  one  cold,  windy,  berleak  day,  the 
old  wolves  said  to  the  young  ones,  '  How  about 
a  meal  of  meat  ? '  and  all  the  young  one's  said, 
'Oh,  let's!' 

11  That  very  morning,"  continued  Phillis  in 
the  impressive  bass  which  she  reserves  for  the 
most  exciting  parts  of  her  narrative,  "  that  very 
morning  the  foolish  young  horse  said  to  the 


90  Raw  Material 

old  horses,  'Who  is  for  a  scamper  to-day?' 
Then  he  began  to  wiggle  and  wiggle  at  his 
halter.  The  old  horses  said,  '  There  is  wolves 
outside,  and  our  master  says  that  they  eat  all 
sheep  an'  cattle  an'  horses.'  But  the  young 
horse  just  wiggled  and  wiggled," — I  could  hear 
my  daughter  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  upon 
her  audience's  knee, — "  and  pwesently  his  halter 
was  off!  Then  out  he  rushed,  kicking  up  the 
nimble  snow  with  his  feathery  heels,  and — what?" 

Robin,  who  was  automatically  murmuring 
something  about  transferred  epithets,  apologised 
for  this  pedantic  lapse,  and  the  tale  proceeded. 

"  Well,  just  as  he  was  goin'  to  have  one 
more  scamper,  he  felt  a  growl — a  awful,  fearful, 
deep  growl" — Phillis's  voice  sank  to  a  blood- 
curdling and  continuous  gurgle  — "  and  he 
terrembled,  like  this !  I'll  show  you " 

She  slipped  off  Robin's  knee,  and  I  knew 
that  she  was  now  on  the  hearth-rug,  simulating 
acute  palsy  for  his  benefit. 

"Then  he  felt  somefing  on  his  back,  then 
somefing  further  up  his  back,  then  a  bite  at 
his  neck ;  and  then  he  felt  his  head  bitten 
off,  and  he  died.  Now  you  tell  me  one." 

"  Which  ? " 

Phillis  considered. 


Robin  off  Duty  91 

"The   one   about   the    Kelpie    and    the   Wee 
Bit  Lassie." 

Robin  obliged.  At  first  he  stumbled  a  little, 
and  had  to  be  prompted  in  hoarse  whispers  by 
Phillis  (who  apparently  had  heard  the  story 
several  times  before) ;  but  as  the  narrative  pro- 
gressed and  the  adventures  of  the  wee  bit 
lassie  grew  more  enthralling  and  the  Kelpie 
more  terrifying,  he  became  almost  as  immersed 
as  his  audience.  When  I  peeped  through  the 
curtain  they  were  both  sitting  on  the  hearth- 
rug pressed  close  together,  Phillis  gripping  one 
of  Robin's  enormous  hands  in  a  pleasurable 
condition  of  terrified  interest.  The  fair  copy 
of  the  "Importation  of  Mad  Dogs  Bill,"  I 
regret  to  say,  lay  on  the  floor  under  the  table. 
I  retired  to  my  arm-chair. 

"  The  Kelpie,"  Robin  continued,  "  came  closer 
and  closer  behind  her.  Already  she  could  feel 
a  hot  breath  on  her  neck."  (So  could  Eobin 
on  his,  for  that  matter.)  "But  she  did  not 
give  in.  She  ran  faster  and  faster  until " 

"  You've  forgotten  to  say  she  could  hear  its 
webbed  feet  going  pad  pad  over  the  slippery 
stanes,"  interpolated  Phillis  anxiously. 

"  So  I  did.  I'm  sorry.  She  could  hear  its 
webbed  feet  going  pad  pad  over  the  slippery 


92  Raw  Material 

stanes.  Presently  though,  she  came  to  a  wee 
bit  housie  on  the  moor.  It  was  empty,  but 
she  slippit  through  the  yard -gate  and  flew 
along  the  path  and  in  at  the  door.  The  Kelpie 
came  flying  through  the  gate " 

"  No,  no — it  loupit  ower  the  dyke  ! "  screamed 
Phillis,  who  would  countenance  no  tamperings 
with  the  original  text. 

"Oh,  yes.  It  loupit  ower  the  dyke,  but  the 
wee  lassie  just  slammed  the  door  in  its  face, 
and  turned  the  key.  Then  she  felt  round  in 
the  dark  and  keeked  about,  wondering  what 
kind  of  place  she  was  in.  And  at  that  very 
moment,  through  a  bit  window  in  the  wall " 

"She  went  ben  first." 

"  Oh,  yes.  She  went  ben ;  and  at  that  very 
moment,  through  the  bit  window  in  the  back- 
end  of  the  house,  there  came  a  ray  of  light. 
The  sun " 

"  The  sun  had  risen,"  declaimed  Phillis.  trium- 
phantly taking  up  the  tale ;  "  and  with  one 
wild  sheriek  of  disappointed  rage  the  Kelpie 
vanished  away,  and  the  wee  lassie  was  saved!" 

There  was  a  rapt  pause  after  this  exciting 
anecdote.  Then  Phillis  remarked — 

"  Uncle  Robin,  let's  write  that  story  down, 
and  then  I  can  get  people  to  read  it  to  me." 


Robin  off  Duty  93 

"Why  not  write  it  down  for  yourself?" 

"I  can't  write — much;  and  it  ought  to  be 
writed  in  ink,  and  I — I  am  only  allowed  to 
use  pencil,"  explained  my  daughter,  not  without 
a  certain  bitterness.  "  But  I  put  the  lead  in 
my  mouf,"  she  added  defiantly. 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  my  apartment 
was  hurled  open,  and  Gerald  projected  himself 
into  the  room.  It  was  the  evening  before  his 
return  to  school,  and  there  was  a  predatory 
look  in  his  eye.  He  was  accompanied  by  his 
speechless  friend. 

"  Adrian,  old  son,"  he  began,  in  such  tones 
as  an  orator  might  address  to  a  refractory 
mob,  "Moke  and  I  are  going  to  have  a  study 
next  term,  and  we  want  some  furniture." 

I  mildly  remarked  that  in  my  day  furniture 
was  supplied  by  the  school  authorities. 

"Yes,  but  I  mean  pictures  and  things.  Can 
you  give  us  one  ?  We  shall  want  something 
to  go  on  that  wall  opposite  the  window,  shan't 
we,  Moke  1  The  place  where  young  Lee  missed 
your  head  with  the  red-ink  bottle.  Have  you 
got  a  picture  handy,  Adrian  ? " 

I  replied  in  the  negative. 

Gerald  took  not  the  slightest  notice. 

"  It   will   have  to   be   a  pretty   big   one,"   he 


94  Raw  Material 

/ 

continued.  "There  is  a  good  lot  of  red  ink 
to  cover.  I  have  been  taking  a  look  round 
the  house,  and  I  must  say  the  pictures  you've 
got  are  a  fairly  mangy  lot — aren't  they,  Moke  ? " 

The  gentleman  addressed  coughed  depre- 
catingly,  and  looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say 
that,  whatever  he  thought  of  my  taste  in  art, 
he  had  eaten  my  salt  and  would  refrain  from 
criticism. 

"There's  one  that  might  do,  though,"  con- 
tinued Gerald.  "  It's  hanging  in  the  billiard- 
room — a  big  steamer  in  a  storm." 

By  this  time  Phillis  and  Robin  had  joined 
the  conclave. 

"  I  know,"  said  Phillis,  nodding  her  head ; 
"a  great  beautiful  boat  in  some  waves.  I 
should  fink  it  was  a  friend  of  the  Great 
Eastern's"  she  added,  referring  to  an  anti- 
quated print  of  the  early  Victorian  leviathan 
which  hung  in  the  nursery. 

"We  could  take  it  for  a  term  or  two,  any- 
how," continued  Gerald,  "  until  we  get  some- 
thing better.  I'm  expecting  some  really  decent 
ones  after  summer.  Ainslie  major  is  leaving 
then,  and  he  has  promised  to  let  me  have 
some  of  his  cheap.  Then  you  can  have  yours 
back,  Adrian.  That's  the  scheme !  Come  on, 


Robin  off  Duty  95 

Moke,  we'll  go  and  take  it  down  now.  Thanks 
very  much,  old  chap  "  (to  me).  "  I'll  tell  Kitty 
that  you've  let  us.  We  can  jab  it  off  its  hook 
with  a  billiard  -  cue,  I  should  think,  Moke. 
Come  too,  will  you,  Mr  Fordyce?  You  can 
stand  underneath  and  catch  it,  in  case  it 
comes  down  with  a  run.  So  long,  Adrian ! " 

The  whole  pack  of  them  swept  from  the 
room,  leaving  the  door  open. 

When  I  looked  in  at  the  billiard  -  room  on 
my  way  up  to  dress  for  dinner  an  hour  later, 
nothing  remained  to  mark  the  spot  hitherto 
occupied  by  a  signed  and  numbered  proof  of 
An  Ocean  Greyhound,  by  Michael  Angelo 
Mahlstaff,  A.R.A.  (a  wedding  gift  to  my  wife 
and  myself  from  the  artist),  but  the  imprints 
of  several  hot  hands  on  the  wall,  together  with 
a  series  of  parallel  perpendicular  scars,  ap- 
parently inflicted  by  a  full-sized  harrow. 

From  which  two  chapters  it  will  be  gathered 
that  Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce  was  a  man 
capable,  in  his  ordinary  working-day,  of  playing 
many  parts. 


96 


CHAPTER    SEVEN. 

A   DISSOLUTION   OF  PARTNERSHIP. 


MY  wife  and  I  would  have  been  more  than 
human  if  we  had  not  occasionally  cast  a  curious 
eye  upon  the  relations  of  Robin  and  the  Twins. 

Of  Robin's  attitude  towards  that  pair  of 
charmers  Kitty  could  make  little  and  I  nothing. 
He  kept  his  place  and  went  his  own  way — rather 
ostentatiously,  I  thought — and  appeared  if  any- 
thing to  avoid  them.  If  he  found  himself  in 
their  company  he  treated  them  with  a  certain 
grave  reticence — he  soon  grew  out  of  his  fond- 
ness for  addressing  us  like  a  public  meeting — 
and  made  little  attempt  to  bestow  upon  them 
the  attentions  which  young  maidens  are  accus- 
tomed to  receive  from  young  men. 

There  was  no  mystery  about  the  Twins'  atti- 
tude towards  Robin.  "  Here,"  said  they  in 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership        97 

effect,  "  is  a  fine  upstanding  young  man,  full  of 
promise,  but  hampered  in  every  direction  by 
abysmal  ignorance  on  matters  of  vital  import- 
ance. His  instincts  are  sound,  but  at  present 
he  is  quite  impossible.  What  he  wants  is 
mothering." 

And  so  they  mothered  him,  most  maternally. 
They  exerted  themselves  quite  strenuously  to 
instil  into  him  the  fundamental  principles  of  life 
— the  correct  method  of  tying  a  dress  tie ;  the 
intricate  ritual  which  governs  such  things  as 
visiting-cards  and  asparagus;  the  exact  limit  of 
the  domains  of  brown  boots  and  dinner-jackets ; 
the  utter  criminality  of  dickeys,  turn-down 
collars,  and  side -whiskers ;  and  the  superiority 
of  dialogue  to  monologue  as  a  concomitant  to 
afternoon  tea. 

In  many  respects,  they  discovered  with  pleased 
surprise,  their  pupil  required  no  instruction  or 
surveillance.  For  instance,  he  could  always  be 
trusted  to  enter  or  leave  a  room  without 
awkwardness,  and  his  manner  of  address  was 
perfect.  He  was  neither  servile  nor  familiar, 
and  the  only  people  to  whom  I  ever  saw  him 
pay  marked  deference  were  the  members  of  what 
is  after  all  the  only  real  and  natural  aristocracy 
in  the  world — that  of  old  age. 

G 


98  Raw  Material 

All  their  ministrations  Robin  received  with 
grave  wonder — he  was  not  of  the  sort  that  can 
easily  magnify  a  fetish  into  a  deity — but,  evi- 
dently struck  by  the  intense  importance  attached 
by  the  Twins  to  their  own  doctrines,  he  showed 
himself  a  most  amenable  pupil.  Probably  he 
realised,  in  spite  of  hereditary  preference  for  in- 
ward worth  as  opposed  to  outward  show,  that 
though  a  coat  cannot  make  a  man,  a  good  man 
in  a  good  coat  often  has  the  advantage  of  a  good 
man  in  a  bad  coat.  So  he  allowed  the  Twins  to 
round  off  his  corners ;  and,  without  losing  any  of 
his  original  ruggedness  of  character  or  toughness 
of  fibre,  he  soon  developed  into  a  well-groomed 
and  sufficiently  presentable  adjunct — quite  dis- 
tinguished-looking, Dilly  said,  when  she  met  us 
one  day  on  our  way  down  to  the  House — to  a 
lady's  morning  walk. 

What  he  really  thought  of  it  all  I  do  not 
know.  I  have  a  kind  of  suspicion  that  deep  down 
in  his  heart  every  Scot  entertains  a  contempt  for 
the  volatile  and  frivolous  English  which  is  only 
equalled  by  that  of  the  English  for  the  nation 
to  whom  I  once  heard  a  Highland  minister  refer 
as  "the  giddy  and  godless  French";  but  Robin 
was  not  given  to  the  revelation  of  his  private 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership        99 

thoughts.  He  seldom  spoke  of  the  Twins  to 
me — he  was  a  discusser  of  manners  rather  than 
men — but  he  once  remarked  that  they  were 
girls  of  widely  different  character.  He  entered 
into  no  further  details,  but  I  remember  being 
struck  by  the  observation  at  the  time ;  for  I 
had  always  regarded  my  sisters-in-law  as  being 
as  identical  in  disposition  as  they  were  in 
appearance. 

Still  it  was  pretty  to  see  Robin  unbending 
to  please  the  two  girls,  and  to  hear  him  say 
"No,  really?"  or  "My  word,  what  rot!"  when 
you  knew  that  his  tongue  was  itching  to  cry, 
"Is  that  a  fact?"  or  "Hoots!"  or  "Havers!" 
as  the  occasion  demanded. 

He  also  possessed  the  great  and  unique  merit 
of  not  being  ashamed  to  ask  for  guidance  in  a 
difficulty.  I  have  known  him  pause  before  an 
unfamiliar  dish  at  table  and  ask  one  of  his 
preceptresses,  in  the  frankest  manner  possible, 
whether  the  exigencies  of  the  situation  called 
for  a  spoon  or  a  fork  :  and  out  of  doors  it  was 
a  perpetual  joy  to  hear  him  whisper,  on  the 
approach  of  some  one  whom  he  thought  might 
be  a  friend  of  ours,  "Will  I  lift  my  hat?" 

All  that  year  Robin  was  my  right  hand.     It 


ioo  Raw  Material 

was  a  long  session ;  and  as  my  Chief  sat  in  the 
Upper  House,  much  work  in  the  way  of  answer- 
ing questions  and  making  statements  fell  upon 
me.  We  had  a  good  working  majority,  but  the 
Opposition  were  a  united  and  well -organised 
body  that  year,  and  we  had  to  rise  early  and 
go  to  bed  late  to  keep  their  assaults  at  bay 
while  proceeding  with  the  programme  of  the 
session.  Every  afternoon,  before  I  entered  the 
House  to  take  my  place  at  question -time,  my 
secretary  insisted  on  taking  me  through  the 
answers  which  he  had  prepared  for  my  recita- 
tion ;  and  we  also  discussed  the  line  of  action 
to  be  pursued  if  I  were  cornered  by  questions 
of  the  "  arising-out-of-that-answer  "  order. 

Personally,  I  loathed  this  part  of  the  work 
— I  am  a  departmental ist  pure  and  simple — 
but  Robin's  eye  used  to  glow  with  the  light  of 
battle  as  he  rehearsed  me  in  the  undoubtedly 
telling  counters  with  which  I  was  to  pulverise 
the  foe. 

"  I  would  like  fine,"  he  once  said  to  me,  "  to 
stand  up  in  your  place  and  answer  these  ques- 
tions for  you." 

"  I  wish  you  could,  Robin,"  I  sighed.  "  And," 
I  added,  "  I  believe  you  will  some  day." 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       101 

Robin  turned  pink,  for  the  first  time  in  our 
acquaintance,  and  I  heard  his  teeth  click 
suddenly  together. 

So  the  wind  lay  that  way ! 


II. 


During  the  next  year  my  household  was 
furnished  with  three  surprises,  Dilly  contribut- 
ing one  and  Robin  two. 

Robin's  came  first.  One  was  his  uncle,  the 
other  his  book. 

One  night  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  dine  in  the  City, 
as  the  guest  of  the  Honourable  Company  of  Tile- 
Glazers  and  Mortar -Mixers.  As  I  swam  for- 
lornly through  a  turgid  ocean  of  turtle-soup  and 
clarified  punch  towards  an  unyielding  continent 
of  fish,  irrigated  by  brown  sherry,  mechanically 
rehearsing  to  myself  the  series  of  sparkling  yet 
statesmanlike  epigrams  with  which  I  proposed 
to  reply  to  the  toast  of  his  Majesty's  Ministers 
I  became  aware  that  the  gentleman  on  my  left 
was  addressing  me  in  a  voice  that  seemed 
vaguely  familiar. 


IO2  Raw  Material 

"And  how  is  my  brother's  second  boy  doing 
with  you,  Mr  Inglethwaite  ? " 

I  must  have  looked  a  trifle  blank,  for  he 
added — 

"My  nephew,  Robin." 

I  glanced  obliquely  at  the  card  which  marked 
his  place  at  table,  and  read — 

Sir  James  Fordyce. 

Then  I  began  to  grasp  the  situation,  and  I 
realised  that  this  great  man,  whose  name  was 
honourably  known  wherever  the  ills  of  child- 
hood are  combated,  was  Robin's  uncle,  the 
"  doctor "  to  whom  my  secretary  had  casually 
referred,  and  whom  he  occasionally  went  to 
visit  on  Sunday  afternoons.  I  had  pictured  an 
overdriven  G.P.,  living  in  Bloomsbury  or  Bal- 
ham,  with  a  black  bag,  and  a  bulge  in  his  hat 
where  he  kept  his  stethoscope.  A  man  suffi- 
ciently distinguished  to  represent  his  profession 
at  a  public  banquet  was  more  than  I  had 
bargained  for. 

We  became  friends  at  once,  and  supported 
each  other,  so  to  speak,  amid  the  multitude  of 
dinners  and  dishes,  our  respective  neighbours 
proving  but  broken  reeds  so  far  as  social  inter- 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       103 

course  was  concerned.  On  Sir  James's  left,  I 
remember,  sat  a  plethoric  gentleman  whose 
burnished  countenance  gave  him  the  appearance 
of  a  sort  of  incarnate  Glazed  Tile  ;  while  my 
right-hand  neighbour,  from  the  manner  in  which 
he  manipulated  the  food  upon  his  plate,  I  put 
down  without  hesitation  as  a  Mortar  Mixer  of 
high  standing. 

The  old   gentleman  gave  me  a  good  deal  of 
information  about  Robin. 

"  He  had  a  hard  fight  his  first  year  or  two 
in  London,"  he  said.  "  I  could  see  by  the  way 
he  fell  upon  his  dinner  when  he  came  to  my 
house  that  his  meat  and  drink  were  not  easily 
come  by.  Still,  now  that  he  has  won  through, 
he  will  not  regret  the  experience.  I  had  it 
myself.  It  is  the  finest  training  that  a  young 
man  can  receive.  Hard,  terribly  hard,  but  in- 
valuable !  You  will  not  have  seen  his  father 
yet — my  brother  John?" 

I  told  him  no. 

"  Well,  try  and  meet  him.  You,  as  an  Eng- 
lishman, would  perhaps  call  him  hard  and 
narrow,  —  after  forty  years  of  London  I  some- 
times find  him  so  myself,  —  but  he  is  a  fine 
man,  and  he  has  a  good  wife.  So  have  you," 


IO4  Raw  Material 

he  added  unexpectedly  —  "Robin  has  told  me 
that." 

I  laughed,  in  what  the  Twins  call  the  "silly 
little  gratified  way"  which  obtrudes  itself  into 
my  demeanour  when  any  one  praises  Kitty. 

"I  hope  you  are  in  the  same  happy  situa- 
tion," I  said. 

"  No,  I  am  a  bachelor.  My  brother  John  has 
not  achieved  a  K.C.B.,  but  he  is  a  more  for- 
tunate man  than  I." 

The  conversation  dropped  here,  but  I  repeated 
it  to  my  wife  afterwards. 

"Of  course,  the  whole  thing  is  as  clear  as 
daylight,"  she  said.  "  These  two  brothers  both 
wanted  to  marry  the  same  girl.  She  took  the 
farmer  one,  so  the  other,  poor  thing,  went  off 
to  London  and  became  a  famous  doctor  instead. 
That's  all.  He  might  have  been  Robin's  father, 
but  he's  only  his  uncle." 

Happy  the  mind  which  can  reconstruct  a 
romance  out  of  such  scanty  material. 

Sir  James  ultimately  dined  at  my  house,  and 
became  a  firm  friend  of  all  that  dwelt  therein, 
especially  Phillis. 

Then  came  Robin's  second  surprise — his  book. 
It  was  a  novel,  and  a  very  good  novel  too.  He 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       105 

had  been  at  it  for  some  time,  he  told  me,  but 
it  was  only  recently  that  he  had  contrived  to 
finish  it  off.  Being  distrustful  of  its  merits, 
he  had  decided  to  offer  it  to  just  one  good 
publisher,  who  could  take  it  or  leave  it.  If  he 
took  it,  well  and  good.  But  if  the  publisher 
(and  possibly  just  one  other)  exhibited  an  atti- 
tude of  aloofness,  Robin  had  fully  decided  not 
to  hawk  his  bantling  about  among  other  less 
reputable  and  more  amenable  firms,  but  to  con- 
sign it  to  his  bedroom  fire. 

However,  this  inhuman  but  only-too-unusual 
sacrifice  of  the  parental  instinct  was  averted  by 
the  one  good  publisher,  who  accepted  the  book, 
and  introduced  Robin  to  the  public. 

Either  through  shyness  or  indifference  R-obin 
had  told  us  nothing  of  the  approaching  interest- 
ing event,  and  it  was  not  until  one  morning  in 
October,  when  a  parcel  of  complimentary  copies 
arrived  from  the  publisher's,  that  we  were 
apprised  of  the  fact  that  we  had  been  cherish- 
ing an  author  in  our  midst.  Robin  solemnly 
presented  us  with  a  copy  apiece  (which  I 
thought  handsome  but  extravagant),  and  also 
sent  one  to  his  parents,  who,  though  I  think 
they  rather  doubted  the  propriety  of  possessing 


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a  son  who  wrote  novels  at  all,  wrote  back 
comparing  it  very  favourably  with  The  Pil- 
grim's Progress,  the  only  other  work  of  fiction 
with  which  they  were  acquainted. 

The  book  itself  dealt  with  matters  rather  than 
men,  and  with  men  rather  than  women ;  which 
was  characteristic  of  its  author,  but  rather 
irritating  for  the  Twins.  It  had  a  good  deal 
to  say  about  the  under  -  side  of  journalism, — 
graphic  and  convincing,  all  this, — and  contained 
a  rather  technical  but  absorbingly  interesting 
account  of  some  most  exciting  financial  opera- 
tions, winding  up  with  a  great  description  of 
a  panic  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  But  there 
were  few  light  and  no  tender  passages,  from 
which  it  will  be  seen  that  Robin  as  an  author 
appealed  to  the  male  rather  than  the  female 
intellect. 

The  Twins,  I  think,  were  secretly  rather  dis- 
appointed with  the  book,  less  from  any  particular 
fondness  for  the  perusal  of  love -passages  than 
from  a  truly  human  desire  to  note  how  Robin 
would  have  handled  them ;  for  it  is  always 
interesting  to  see  to  what  extent  our  friends 
will  give  themselves  away  when  they  commit 
the  indiscretion  of  a  book.  On  this  occasion 
Robin  had  been  exasperatingly  self-contained. 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       107 

But  life  is  full  of  compensations.     There  was 
a  dedication.     It  read  : — 


THIS  BOOK 

OWES   ITS    INCEPTION, 

AND   IS   THEREFORE 

DEDICATED, 

TO 
A   CIRCUMSTANCE 

OVER 

WHOM 

I  HAVE  NO   CONTROL. 

E.  C.  F. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  there  is  only  one  circumstance  over  whom 
a  vigorous  young  man  has  no  control,  and  this 
circumstance  wears  petticoats.  Hitherto  I  had 
not  seriously  connected  Robin  with  the  tender 
passion,  and  this  sudden  intimation  that  the 
most  serious  -  minded  and  ambitious  of  young 
men  is  not  immune  from  the  same  rather 
startled  me. 

The  female  members  of  my  establishment  were 
pleasantly  fluttered,  though  they  were  concerned 
less  with  the  lady's  existence  than  with  her 
identity. 


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"Who  do  you  think  she  is?"  inquired  Kitty 
of  me,  the  first  time  the  subject  cropped  up 
between  us. 

"Don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  I  murmured.  I 
was  smoking  my  post  -  prandial  cigar  at  the 
time,  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  "Never 
had  the  privilege  of  seeing  his  visiting-list." 

"I  wonder  who  she  can  be,"  continued  my 
wife.  "  He — he  hasn't  said  anything  to  you, 
has  he,  dear?"  she  inquired,  in  a  tentative 
voice. 

I  slowly  opened  one  of  my  hitherto  closed 
eyes,  and  cocked  it  suspiciously  at  the  diplo- 
matist sitting  opposite  to  me.  (The  Twins 
and  Robin  were  out  at  the  theatre.)  Then, 
observing  that  she  was  stealthily  regarding 
me  through  her  eyelashes — a  detestable  trick 
which  some  women  have — I  solemnly  agitated 
my  eyelid  some  three  or  four  times  and  gently 
closed  it  again. 

"  Has  he  confided  any  of  his  love  affairs  to 
you,  I  mean  ? "  continued  Kitty,  quite  unabashed. 

"  If  you  eat  any  more  chocolates  you  will 
make  yourself  sick,"  I  observed. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  my  wife  submissively,  push- 
ing away  the  bon-bon  dish.  "  But  has  he  ? " 

"  Are  you  trying  to  pump  me  ? " 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       109 

"  Oh,  gracious,  no !  What  would  be  the 
good  ?  I  only  asked  a  plain  question.  You 
men  are  such  creatures  for  screening  each 
other,  though,  that  it's  never  any  use  asking 
a  man  anything  about  another  man." 

"  True  for  you.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Robin 
has  hardly  said  a  word  to  me  on  the  subject 
of  women  since  first  I  met  him." 

Kitty  thoughtfully  cracked  a  filbert  with 
her  teeth  —  an  unladylike  habit  about  which 
I  have  often  spoken  to  her — and  said — 

"  What  exciting  chats  you  must  have  f  * 
Then  she  added  reflectively — 

"I  expect  it's  a  girl  in  Scotland.  A  sort 
of  Highland  lassie,  in  a  kilt,  or  whatever 
female  Highlanders  wear." 

"Why  should  a  novel  about  the  Stock  Ex- 
change '  owe  its  inception '  to  a  Highland  lassie  ?  " 

Kitty  took  another  filbert. 

"That's  'vurry  bright'  of  you,  Adrian,  as 
that  American  girl  used  to  say.  There's  some- 
thing in  that.  (Yes,  I  know  you  don't  like 
it,  dear,  but  I  love  doing  it.  I'll  pour  you 
out  another  glass  of  port.  There !)  But  any 
idiotic  excuse  is  good  enough  for  a  man  in 
love.  Has  he  ever  been  sentimental  with 
you — quoted  poetry,  or  anything  ?  " 


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"  N-no.  Stop,  though !  He  did  once  quote 
Burns  to  me,  but  that  was  h  propos  of  poetry 
in  general,  not  of  love-making." 

I  remembered  the  incident  well.  Robin  had 
picked  up  at  a  bookstall  a  copy  of  an  early 
and  quite  valuable  edition  of  Burns'  poems.  He 
had  sat  smoking  with  me  in  the  library  late 
the  same  night,  turning  over  the  pages  of  the 
tattered  volume,  and  quoting  bits,  in  broad 
vernacular,  from  "  Tarn  o'  Shanter "  and  "  The 
Cottar's  Saturday  Night."  Suddenly  he  began, 
almost  to  himself" — 

"  O,  my  love  is  like  a  red,  red  rose, 
That's  newly  sprung  in  June  ; 
My  love  is  like  a  melody 

That's  sweetly  played  in  tune. 
As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonnie  lass, 
So  deep  in  love  am  I " 

He  broke  off  for  a  moment,  and  I  remembered 
how  he  glowered  ecstatically  into  the  fire. 
Then  he  concluded — 

"And  I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 
Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry." 

"  Man,"  he  said,  "  that's  fine !  That's  poetry. 
That's  the  real  thing!" 

I  had  agreed.  It  is  no  use  arguing  with 
a  Scot  about  Burns.  (I  remember  once  being 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       in 

nearly  dirked  at  a  Caledonian  Dinner  because 
I  ventured  to  remark  that  "  before  ye "  was 
not  in  my  opinion  a  good  rhyme  to  "  Loch 
Lomond.") 

However,  Kitty  and  I  were  unable  to  decide 
whether  Robin's  "  bonnie  lass  "  on  that  occasion 
had  been  a  personality  or  an  abstraction. 

"Mightn't  it  be  one  of  the  Twins?"  I  re- 
marked. 

"  Well,  it  might  be,"  admitted  Kitty  judicially, 
"  but  he  has  kept  it  very  close  if  it  is.  No," 
she  continued  more  decidedly,  "  I  don't  think 
it  can  be.  They  are  quite  out  of  his  line. 
Besides — it  would  be  too  absurd  ! " 

It  was  not  one  Twin  at  any  rate,  for  a  fort- 
night later  Dilly  sprung  upon  us  the  third 
surprise  of  the  series  I  have  mentioned.  She 
announced  that  she  had  decided  to  marry 
Dicky  Lever. 

There  was,  I  suppose,  nothing  very  surprising 
in  that.  Dicky  had  been  in  constant  attendance 
upon  the  Twins  for  nearly  two  years,  and  had 
long  since  graduated  into  the  ranks  of  the 
Good  Sorts.  The  surprise  to  us  —  rather 
unreasonably,  perhaps — lay  in  the  fact  of — 

1.  Dicky  having  definitely  fixed  upon  a 
particular  Twin  to  propose  to ; 


H2  Raw  Material 

2.  That  Twin  having  definitely  selected  Dicky 
out  of  the  assortment  at  her  command. 

I  was  so  accustomed  to  seeing  my  sisters- 
in-law  compassed  about  by  a  cloud  of  young 
men  who  appeared  to  admire  them  both  equally, 
and  to  whom  they  appeared  to  apportion  their 
favours  with  indiscriminate  camaraderie,  that 
the  idea  of  one  admirer  stealing  a  march  on 
all  the  others  seemed  a  little  unfair,  somehow. 

As  Dolly  remarked,  it  would  break  up  the 
firm  horribly. 

"You  see,"  she  confided  to  me  rather  plain- 
tively, "  Dilly  will  have  no  use  for  them  now, 
and  they'll  have  still  less  use  for  her  —  an 
engaged  girl  beside  other  girls  is  about  as 
exciting  as  a  tapioca  -  pudding  at  a  Lord 
Mayor's  Banquet  —  and  they  will  only  have 
me.  That  won't  be  half  the  fun." 

"I  should  have  thought  that  your  fun  would 
have  been  exactly  doubled,"  I  said. 

"  Not  a  bit.  How  like  a  man !  Don't  you 
see,  the  fun  used  to  be  in  playing  them  back- 
wards and  forwards  between  our  two  selves — 
like  ping-pong,  you  know  !  It  was  clinking  ! " 

She  sighed  regretfully. 

"  Now  I  shall  either  have  to  avoid  men 
or  marry  them,"  she  concluded,  vaguely  but 


A  ^Dissolution  of  Partnership       113 

regretfully.  "  Before,  if  they  got  in  the 
way,  I  could  always  volley  them  back  to 
Dilly.  Now — one  can't  play  ping-pong  all  by 
oneself ! " 


III. 


Billy's  engagement,  as  is  usual  under  such 
circumstances,  afforded  my  household  many 
opportunities  for  airy  badinage  and  innocent 
merriment. 

Dolly  always  heralded  her  coming  into  the 
billiard  -  room,  where  the  affianced  pair  had 
staked  out  a  claim,  by  a  cough  of  penetrating 
severity,  and  usually  entered  the  room  with 
her  features  obscured  by  an  open  umbrella. 
On  several  occasions,  too,  she  impersonated 
her  sister ;  and  once,  when  Dicky  was  spending 
a  week-end  in  the  house,  was  only  prevented 
by  the  fraction  of  a  second  from  robbing  that 
incensed  damosel  of  her  morning  salute. 

My  share  in  the  proceedings  was  limited  to 
a  single  constrained  interview  with  Dicky,  at 
which,  feeling  extremely  rude  and  inquisitive, 
I  asked  him  the  usual  stereotyped  questions 
about  his  income,  prospects,  and  habits  (most 

H 


H4  Raw  Material 

of  which  I  knew  only  too  well  already),  which, 
being  satisfactorily  answered,  I  rang  the  bell 
for  the  Tantalus,  and  thanked  heaven  that  the 
Twins  were  not  Triplets.  I  had  indeed  sug- 
gested that  Dilly's  nearest  and  most  natural 
protector  was  her  brother,  Master  Gerald,  and 
that  Dicky  should  apply  not  for  my  consent 
but  his.  This  motion,  however,  was  negatived 
without  a  division.  I  was  sorry,  for  I  think 
my  brother-in-law  would  have  shown  himself 
worthy  of  the  occasion. 

My  wife  received  the  news  of  the  engagement 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  usually  exhibited  by  a 
Salvation  lassie  when  a  fresh  convert  is  hustled 
forward  to  the  "  saved "  bench,  and  henceforth 
divided  her  time  between  ordering  Dilly's  trous- 
seau and  giving  tea-parties,  at  which  the  pro- 
spective bridegroom  was  produced  and  passed 
round,  "  as  if,"  to  use  his  own  expression,  "  he 
were  the  newest  thing  in  accordion-pleating." 

As  regards  Robin's  share  in  the  event,  I  can 
only  recall  one  incident.  He  had  been  away 
at  Stoneleigh,  the  largest  town  in  my  constitu- 
ency, on  some  party  business,  and  when  he 
returned  home  the  engagement  had  been  an- 
nounced for  nearly  a  week. 

"  I  must  go  and  offer  my  good  wishes  to  Miss 


A  Dissolution  of  Partnership       115 

Dilly,"  he  said,  after  hearing  the  news.  "Do 
you  know  where  she  is,  Mrs  Inglethwaite  ? " 

"  I  saw  her  upstairs  a  few  minutes  ago,"  said 
Kitty.  "  Come  up,  and  we'll  find  her." 

We  were  in  the  library  at  the  time,  and  Kitty 
and  Robin  left  the  room  together.  The  rest  of 
the  story  my  wife  told  me  later. 

"  We  went  up,"  she  said,  "  and  looked  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  I  had  last  seen  Dilly. 
The  room  was  nearly  dark,  but  she  was  there, 
sitting  curled  up  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"  '  There  she  is,'  I  said.  '  Go  and  say  some- 
thing nice.' 

"  Well,  dear," — Kitty's  face  assumed  an  air 
of  impressive  solemnity  which  makes  her  ab- 
surdly like  her  daughter — "he  stood  hesitating 
a  moment,  and  then  walked  straight  up  to  her 
and  said — 

"  '  Good  afternoon  !  Can  you  tell  me  where 
your  sister  is  ?  I  want  to  offer  her  my  good 
wishes  on  the  great  event.' 

"  It  wasn't  Dilly  at  all.  It  was  Dolly !  And 
he  was  able  to  distinguish  between  the  two  in 
that  dim  room.  And  I  couldn't ! " 

"  Oh,"  said  I  carelessly,  "  I  expect  he  noticed 
she  wasn't  wearing  an  engagement-ring." 

My  wife   looked   at   me  and  sighed,  as   over 


ii6  Raw  Material 

one  who  would  spoil  a  romance  for  want  of  a 
ha'porth  of  sentiment.  And  yet  I  know  she 
would  have  been  quite  scandalised  if  any  one 
had  hinted  at  tender  passages  between  her 
sister  and  my  secretary.  Women  are  curious 
creatures. 


CHAPTER    EIGHT. 

OF   A   PIT   THAT    WAS    DIGGED,    AND   WHO 
FELL   INTO   IT. 

DICKY  LEVER  was  a  hearty  and  not  particularly 
intellectual  youth  of  the  What  ho !  type  (if  you 
know  what  I  mean).  He  was  employed  in  some 
capacity  in  a  Government  office,  but  his  liveli- 
hood was  not  entirely  dependent  on  his  exer- 
tions therein — which  was,  perhaps,  fortunate,  as 
his  sole  claim  to  distinction  in  his  Department 
lay  in  the  fact  of  his  holding  the  record  for  the 
highest  score  at  small  cricket  in  the  Junior 
Secretaries'  room.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
Leander  Club,  a  more  than  usually  capable 
amateur  actor,  and  a  very  good  fellow  all  round. 
The  engagement  was  announced  at  the  end 
of  July,  which  is  a  busy  time  for  this  country's 
legislators.  The  session  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  we  were  passing  Bills  with  a  prodigality 
and  despatch  which  provoked  many  not  alto- 


ii8  Raw  Material 

gether  undeserved  gibes  from  a  reptile  Opposi- 
tion Press  concerning  the  devotion  of  his 
Majesty's  Government  to  the  worship  of  Saint 
Grouse. 

One  night  I  brought  Champion  home  to 
dinner  between  the  afternoon  and  evening 
sittings.  At  the  latter  he  was  to  move  the 
second  reading  of  his  "  Municipal  Co-ordination 
Bill,"  a  measure  which  was  intended  to  grapple 
with  the  chaos  arising  from  the  multitude  of 
opposing  or  overlapping  interests  that  con- 
trolled the  domestic  arrangements  of  the  Lon- 
doner. An  effort  was  to  be  made  to  bring  all 
the  Gas,  Electricity,  Water,  Paving,  and  other 
corporations  into  some  sort  of  line,  and  prevent 
them  from  getting  into  each  other's  way  and 
adding  to  the  expenses  and  inconvenience  of 
the  much -enduring  ratepayer.  It  was  a  use- 
ful little  Bill ;  but  though  everybody  approved 
of  it  on  principle,  various  powerful  interests 
were  at  work  against  it,  and  its  prospects  of 
getting  through  Committee  hung  in  the  balance. 

"  Now,  Mr  Champion,"  said  Dilly,  who  knew 
that  a  man  always  likes  to  be  questioned  about 
his  work,  especially  by  a  pretty  girl,  "  what 
will  your  Bill  do  for  us?  I  have  asked  this 
person  here," — indicating  her  fiance, — "but  he 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      119 

says  parish -pump  politics  aren't  in  his  depart- 
ment. He  licks  stamps  at  the  Foreign  Office," 
she  added  in  explanation. 

"Tell  her,  Champion,"  said  Dicky.  "Out  of 
my  line  altogether.  Takes  me  all  my  time  to 
keep  an  eye  on  those  Johnnies  in  the  Concert 
of  Europe." 

"  I  will  tell  you  one  thing  the  Bill  will  do, 
Miss  Dilly,"  said  Champion,  a  little  heavily. 
(Dolly  once  said  of  him,  "  He's  awfully  clever 
and  able  and  all  that,  but  he  hasn't  got  a 
light  hand  for  conversational  pastry.")  "  How 
many  times  have  you  noticed  the  streets  up 
about  here  this  year?" 

"Heaps,"  said  Dilly. 

"They  have  hardly  ever  been  down,"  cor- 
roborated Dolly. 

"  Let  me  see,"  continued  Dilly.  "  Our  side  of 
the  Square  was  repaved  in  January.  Directly 
after  that  they  took  it  up  again  and  did  some- 
thing to  the  drains." 

"In  March  they  opened  it  again  to  lay  down 
an  electric  light  main,"  said  I. 

"In  April  something  burst,"  said  Dolly, 
"  and  that  meant  more  men  with  wigwams 
and  braziers." 

"And    last    month,"    concluded   Dilly,    "they 


I2O  Raw  Material 

took  away  the  wood  pavement  and  relaid  the 
whole  Square  with  some  new  patent  asphalte, 
which  smelt  simply,  oh " 

"  Rotten  ! "  supplied  Gerald.  (Have  I  men- 
tioned that  he  had  just  arrived  home  for  his 
summer  holiday  ?) 

"Well,"  said  Champion,  "the  Bill  would 
regulate  that  sort  of  thing.  It  would  protect 
the  streets  from  being  torn  up  at  will  by  any 
Company  who  happened  to  have  business  under- 
neath them.  As  things  are,  practically  any  one 
may  come  along  and  hew  holes  anywhere  he 
pleases." 

"The  police  ought  to  stop  it,"  said  Kitty, 
who  has  a  profound  belief  in  the  Force.  (I 
am  convinced  that  if  Beelzebub  himself  were 
to  enter  the  house  at  any  time  during  my 
absence,  Kitty  would  lure  him  into  the  dining- 
room  with  the  sherry,  and  then  telephone  for 
a  constable.) 

"  The  police  have  no  right,"  said  Champion. 
"  If  a  gas  company  choose  to  give  notice  that 
they  intend  on  a  certain  day  to  come  and  burrow 
in  a  road,  all  the  police  can  do  is  to  divert  the 
traffic,  and  make  the  gas  company  as  comfort- 
able as  possible." 

I   was   not   following   this    conversation    with 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      121 

any  particular  interest.  Being  expected  to 
speak  in  favour  of  the  Bill  that  night,  I  was 
undergoing  the  preliminary  anguish  which  in- 
variably attends  my  higher  oratorical  efforts. 
But  I  remember  now  that  about  this  time  Dilly 
suddenly  turned  to  Dicky  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear.  Then  they  both  looked  across 
the  dinner-table  at  Robin,  who  nodded,  as  who 
should  say,  "  I  know  fine  what  you  whispered 
then."  After  that  they  all  three  laughed  and 
looked  down  the  table  at  Champion,  who  was 
still  expatiating  on  the  merits  of  his  Bill. 

I  suppose  anybody  else  would  have  divined 
what  was  in  the  wind,  but  I  did  not. 

A  week  later  we  were  treated  to  an  all-night 
sitting.  The  Irishmen  had  been  quiescent  of 
late,  but  on  this  occasion  they  made  amends 
for  their  temporary  relaxation  of  patriotism  by 
resolutely  obstructing  an  Appropriation  Bill, 
which  had  to  pass  through  Committee  that 
night  (if  John  Bull  was  to  have  any  ready 
cash  at  all  during  the  next  few  months),  and 
kept  us  replying  to  amendments  and  trotting 
through  division -lobbies  until  six  o'clock  next 
morning. 

Robin  stayed  on  in  attendance  at  the  House 


122  Raw  Material 

most  of  the  night,  but  about  three  o'clock  I 
sent  him  home,  with  instructions  to  stay  in 
bed  till  tea-time  if  he  pleased.  He  had  had  a 
hard  time  lately. 

I  was  walking  homeward  in  the  early  sun- 
shine, marvelling,  as  people  who  accidentally 
find  themselves  up  early  pharisaically  do,  at 
the  fatuity  of  those  who  waste  the  best  hours 
of  the  whole  day  in  bed,  and  revelling  in  the 
near  prospect  of  a  bath  and  my  breakfast,  when 
on  turning  a  corner  I  walked  into  a  hand -cart 
which  was  standing  across  the  pavement.  It 
contained  workmen's  tools — picks,  shovels,  and 
the  like.  On  the  near  side  of  the  roadway  a 
man  was  erecting  one  of  those  curious  wigwam 
arrangements  which  screen  the  operations  of 
electricians  and  other  subterranean  burrowers 
from  the  public  gaze.  A  dirty -faced  small  boy 
in  corduroys  was  tending  a  brazier  of  live  coals, 
upon  which  some  breakfast  cans  were  steaming. 
Between  the  wigwam  and  the  pavement  a 
gigantic  navvy  was  hewing  wooden  paving- 
blocks  out  of  the  roadway. 

The  spectacle  did  not  attract  my  interest 
specially,  as  this  particular  piece  of  street  had 
been  eviscerated  so  often  that  I  had  grown 
callous  to  its  sufferings.  But  I  paused  for  a 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      123 

moment  to  survey  the  big  navvy's  muscles,  and 
to  wonder  how  early  in  the  morning  it  would 
be  necessary  to  rise  in  order  to  catch  a  small 
boy  with  a  clean  face.  The  navvy  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  humanity,  with  a  complexion  tanned 
a  dusky  coffee  colour. 

I  was  reflecting  on  the  joys  of  the  simple  life 
and  the  futility  of  politics  and  other  indoor 
pastimes  in  general,  when  the  big  man  rose  from 
his  stooping  posture  and  caught  my  eye.  He 
appeared  a  little  disconcerted  by  my  scrutiny, 
and  turned  his  back  and  renewed  his  exertions 
with  increased  vigour,  favouring  me  hereafter 
with  what  architects  call  a  "south  elevation" 
of  himself. 

I  went  home  to  breakfast,  wondering  where 
I  had  seen  the  big  navvy's  back  before.  I 
mentioned  casually  to  Kitty  and  the  Twins 
that  Goring  Street  was  up  again.  They 
wondered  how  the  management  of  the  Goring 
Hotel  liked  it,  with  that  mess  under  their  very 
windows,  and  agreed  with  me  that  it  was 
high  time  Champion's  Bill,  due  for  its  Third 
Reading  to-morrow,  became  law. 

I  stayed  in  bed  till  lunch  -  time,  and  then, 
rather  late  in  the  afternoon,  set  out  for  the 
House,  which  I  knew  I  should  find  in  an 


124  Raw  Material 

extremely  limp  condition  after  its  previous 
night's  dissipation.  On  the  way  I  called  in 
at  the  Goring  Hotel  in  Goring  Street,  where 
Champion  lived  when  in  town.  I  found  him  in 
his  room  on  the  first  floor,  gazing  out  of  the 
window  into  the  street. 

I  looked  out  too,  to  see  what  was  interesting 
him.  Directly  below  us  lay  the  encampment  of 
the  workmen  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  morning. 
They  had  hewed  up  a  few  yards  of  the  wood 
pavement,  and  the  smaller  of  the  two  men  was 
now  immersed  up  to  his  waist  in  a  hole,  working 
rather  laboriously  in  the  restricted  space  at  his 
command  with  a  pick-axe.  The  boy  was  piling 
wooden  blocks  into  a  neat  heap,  and  the  big 
man,  whose  form  was  only  partially  visible,  was 
doing  something  inside  the  wigwam. 

The  roadway  was  more  than  half  blocked,  and 
cabs  and  omnibuses,  in  charge  of  over -heated 
and  eloquent  drivers,  were  being  filtered  through 
the  narrow  space  left  at  their  disposal  by  a 
phlegmatic  policeman. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Champion. 

I  looked. 

"  What  on  earth  are  those  fellows  doing  ? "  he 
continued. 

"  Re-laying  the  road,  perhaps." 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      125 

"  One  doesn't  re-lay  a  road  by  making  a  deep 
hole  in  it." 

"Well— gas!" 

"  Gas  and  electric  light  mains  in  this  street 
are  all  led  along  a  special  conduit  reached  by 
manholes  every  eighty  yards,"  said  Champion. 
"  There's  no  need  to  dig." 

"Well — drains!"  said  I  vaguely.  But  I  was 
a  mere  child  in  the  hands  of  this  expert. 

"  The  drains,  as  you  call  them,"  he  said  testily, 
"  consist  of  a  great  sewer  away  in  the  depths, 
accessible  from  various  appointed  places.  Besides, 
nobody  in  his  senses  tries  to  lift  earth  out  of  a 
hole  with  a  pick-axe." 

"  Perhaps  the  solution  of  the  mystery  lies  in- 
side the  wigwam,"  I  said. 

"  No.  That  is  just  what  complicates  matters. 
When  a  shaft  leading  down  to  the  electric  light 
mains  is  opened,  one  of  those  canvas  shelters  is 
put  over  the  top.  Now  there  is  nothing  under 
that  shelter  —  nothing  but  the  bit  of  road  it 
covers.  The  thing  seems  to  be  simply  a  stage 
accessory,  planted  there  to  give  the  encampment 
an  aspect  of  reality.  Ah,  look  at  that ! " 

"  That "  was  a  small  piece  of  paving-wood,  dex- 
terously hurled  by  the  dirty -faced  boy,  who 
seemed  to  be  finding  time  hang  rather  heavily 


126  Raw  Material 

on  his  hands.  It  took  a  passing  citizen  in  the 
email  of  the  back,  but  when  he  swung  round 
to  detect  the  source  of  the  missile  the  boy  was 
on  his  knees  again  industriously  blowing  up  the 
brazier. 

With  an  indignant  snort  the  citizen  passed  on 
his  way,  doubtless  adding  the  outrage,  in  his 
mind,  to  the  long  list  of  unsolved  London  crimes. 
But  retribution  awaited  the  youthful  miscreant. 
The  phlegmatic  policeman  who  was  regulating 
the  traffic  on  the  single -line  system  happened 
to  notice  the  deed.  He  walked  majestically 
across  from  the  far  side  of  the  street  towards 
our  excavating  friends. 

"  Come  on  ! "  said  Champion  to  me.  "  There's 
going  to  be  some  fun." 

We  stepped  out  through  one  of  the  windows, 
which  possessed  a  broad  balcony,  and  took  our 
stand  behind  some  laurels  in  tubs  which  lined 
the  balustrade.  The  street  was  comparatively 
quiet  at  the  time,  and  we  were  able  to  hear  most 
of  the  dialogue  that  ensued. 

"  'Ere,  mate,"  began  the  traffic -expert  to  the 
smaller  of  the  two  navvies,  "just  ketch  that  boy 
of  yours  a  clip  on  the  side  of  the  'ead,  will  you  ? " 

The  smaller  man  desisted  from  his  labours  in 
the  hole. 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      127 

"  Wotsye,  ole  sport  ? "  he  inquired  cheerily. 

The  policeman  was  a  little  ruffled  by  this 
familiarity. 

"  I'll  trouble  you*1  he  repeated  with  some 
hauteur,  "  to  ketch  that  boy  of  yours  a  clip  on 
the  side  of  the  'ead.  If  not,  I  shall  'ave  to  do  my 
duty,  according " 

Here  the  roar  of  a  passing  dray  drowned  his 
utterance. 

The  smaller  man  clambered  nimbly  out  of  the 
hole  and  proceeded  to  grab  his  young  friend  by 
the  scruff  of  the  neck. 

"  Billy,"  he  remarked  dispassionately,  "  this 
gentleman  says  as  'ow  I'm  to  give  you  a  clip  on 
the  side  of  the  'ead." 

"  Woffor,"  inquired  Billy,  simulating  extreme 
terror. 

The  man  passed  the  question  on  to  the  police- 
man, who  explained  the  nature  of  the  offence. 
His  statement  was  voluntarily  corroborated  by 
several  members  of  an  audience  which  seemed 
to  have  materialised  from  nowhere,  and  now 
formed  a  ring  round  the  encampment. 

"  Righto  ! "  said  the  man  with  cheery  acquies- 
cence. "  Billy,  my  lad,  you've  got  to  'ave  it." 

"  Tha's  right,  ole  son  !  You  give  'im  socks," 
remarked  a  hoarse  and  rather  indistinct  voice 


128  Raw  Material 

of  the  gin  -  and  -  fog  variety,  from  among  the 
spectators. 

Simultaneously  its  owner  lurched  his  way  to 
the  front  rank,  the  others  making  room  for  him 
with  that  respectful  sympathy,  not  unmixed  with 
envy,  which  is  always  accorded  to  a  true-born 
Briton  in  his  condition.  He  was  obviously  a 
member  of  some  profession  connected  with  coal- 
dust,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  had  been  cele- 
brating the  conclusion  of  his  day's  labours. 

The  smaller  navvy,  thus  exhorted,  administered 
the  desired  clip.  It  was  not  a  particularly 
severe  one,  but  it  drew  from  its  recipient  the 
somewhat  unexpected  expostulation — 

"  You  silly  ass  !     Not  so  hard  !  " 

Where  had  I  heard  that  stentorian  but  child- 
ish voice  before?  Who  was  this  road- breaker's 
acolyte,  with  his  brazier,  his  dirty  face,  and — 
a  public-school  accent  ? 

I  leaned  over  the  balustrade  and  surveyed  him 
and  his  two  companions.  Then  I  drew  my  breath 
sharply. 

Merciful  heavens ! 

The  dirty -faced  boy  was  my  brother-in-law, 
Master  Gerald  Rubislaw,  the  clip-administerer 
was  Dicky  Lever,  and  the  gigantic  and  taciturn 
navvy  was — my  Secretary  1 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      129 

Having  witnessed  the  carrying-out  of  the  sen- 
tence, the  policeman  returned  to  his  duties ;  none 
too  soon ;  for  a  furniture  van  and  a  butcher's 
cart,  locked  in  an  inextricable  embrace,  the 
subject  of  a  sulphurous  duet  between  their 
respective  proprietors,  called  loudly  for  his 
attention. 

Meanwhile  Coaldust,  who  had  been  inspecting 
the  result  of  our  friends'  united  labours  with 
some  interest,  suddenly  echoed  the  question 
which  had  first  exercised  Champion's  logical 
mind  by  inquiring  what  the  blank  dash  the 
two  adjectival  criminals  and  the  qualified  nipper 
thought  they  were  doing  to  the  asterisked  road. 

He  received  no  encouragement.  Robin  was 
now  engaged  with  a  hammer  and  chisel  in 
cutting  a  sort  of  touch-line  all  round  the  en- 
campment, while  Dicky  did  not  cease  manfully 
to  delve  with  the  pick-axe  in  the  pit  which  he 
had  digged  for  himself.  For  a  long  time  they 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  anxious  inquiries  of 
their  interlocutor. 

But  there  are  limits  to  long-suffering.  Coal- 
dust's  witticisms  increased  with  his  audience, 
and  at  last  Dicky  turned  to  Robin  and  cried, 
with  a  really  admirable  maintenance  of  char- 
acter and  accent — 


130  Raw  Material 

"  'Ere,  Scotty,  come  and  give  this  bloke  one 
in  the  neck.  'E's  askin'  for  it ! " 

Robin  deliberately  suspended  operations,  rose 
heavily  to  his  feet,  and  cleared  his  throat. 
Then  he  turned  upon  the  alcoholic  Coaldust. 
I  strained  my  ears.  Surely  he  was  not  going 
to  talk  Cockney ! 

Far  from  it.     He  stuck  to  his  last. 

"  See  here,  ma  man,"  he  roared,  in  a  voice 
that  made  the  crowd  jump,  "are  ye  for  a  ding 
on  the  side  o'  the  heid  ? " 

Coaldust  capitulated  with  alacrity. 

"  No  offence,  'Grace ! "  he  remarked  genially. 
"  You  an'  me  was  always  pals.  Put  it  there  ! " 
He  extended  an  ebony  hand,  which  Robin 
solemnly  shook  and  returned  to  his  work. 

Whatever  my  three  friends  were  up  to,  it  is 
possible  that  they  might  now  have  been  left 
in  peace  for  some  time ;  for  the  crowd,  seeing 
no  chance  of  further  sport  from  Coaldust,  began 
to  melt  away.  But  a  fresh  character  entered 
the  scene  to  keep  alive  the  flagging  interest 
of  the  drama. 

My  first  intimation  that  something  new  was 
afoot  came  from  an  errand  -  boy  on  the  edge 
of  the  crowd,  who,  addressing  a  lady  or  ladies 
unseen,  suddenly  expressed  a  desire  to  be  chased. 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      131 

All  heads  were  now  turned  down  the  street, 
and  there,  approaching  with  rather  faltering 
steps,  carrying  a  red  cotton  bundle  and  a  tea- 
can,  I  beheld — one  of  my  sisters-in-law ! 

Postulating  Dicky,  I  presumed  it  was  Dilly, 
and  I  began  to  piece  together  in  my  mind  the 
plot  of  this  elaborate  comedy.  Evidently  Dicky, 
Robin,  and  Gerald  had  decided — for  a  bet,  or 
because  they  were  dared,  or  possibly  with  a  view 
to  giving  Champion's  Bill  a  leg-up  by  a  practical 
demonstration  of  the  crying  need  for  it — to  dress 
themselves  up  as  workmen  and  come  and  "do 
a  turn,"  as  they  say  in  the  music  halls,  to  the 
discomfort  of  his  Majesty's  lieges  and  the  con- 
gestion of  traffic,  upon  some  sufficiently  busy 
thoroughfare  for  a  stated  period  of  time. 

Certainly  they  were  doing  it  rather  well. 
They  were  admirably  made  up, — Dicky  was  a 
past-master  at  that  sort  of  thing, — and  their 
operations  so  far  had  been  sufficiently  like  the 
genuine  article  to  impose  upon  the  public  in 
general, — if  we  except  Champion  and  Coaldust, — 
even  to  the  point  of  securing  the  assistance  of 
the  traffic-directing  policeman. 

But  alas  !  with  that  one  step  further,  which 
is  so  often  fatal  to  great  enterprises,  they  had 
sought  to  add  a  finishing  touch  of  realism 


132  Raw  Material 

to  their  impersonation  by  the  inclusion  of  a 
little  feminine  interest ;  and  to  that  end  Dilly 
had  been  added  to  the  cast — or  more  likely  had 
added  herself — in  the  role  of  a  young  person  of 
humble  station  bringing  her  affianced  his  tea. 

And,  not  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
man,  it  was  the  woman  who  opened  the  door  to 
disaster. 

Dilly  wore  a  natty  print  dress — probably  my 
housemaid's — with  a  tartan  shawl  over  her  head. 
She  had  on  her  thickest  shoes,  but  they  were 
woefully  smart  and  thin  for  a  girl  of  her  class. 
Moreover,  her  hair  was  beautifully  arranged 
under  the  shawl,  and  her  hands — though  she 
had  had  the  sense  to  discard  her  ruby  and 
sapphire  engagement -ring — were  too  white  and 
her  face  was  too  clean  to  lend  conviction  to  her 
impersonation.  In  short,  in  her  desire  to  present 
a  pleasing  tout  ensemble — an  object  in  which  I 
must  say  she  had  succeeded  to  perfection — 
Dilly  had  utterly  neglected  detail  and  histrionic 
accuracy. 

Evidently  she  was  not  expecting  a  gallery. 
Two  highly -interested  concentric  circles — one 
of  people  and  one  of  dogs — round  her  fiance's 
encampment  was  rather  more  than  she  had 
bargained  for.  She  had  emerged  quite  suddenly 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      133 

from  a  side  street  (which  I  knew  led  to  a  short- 
cut from  home)  and  now  paused  irresolutely  a 
few  yards  away,  crimson  to  the  roots  of  her 
hair,  what  time  the  errand-boy,  with  looks  of 
undisguised  admiration,  continued  to  reiterate 
his  desire  to  be  pursued. 

The  crowd  all  turned  and  stared  at  poor  Dilly. 
Obviously  they  did  not  know  what  to  make  of 
her.  Possibly  she  was  some  one  from  the  chorus 
of  a  musical  comedy  going  to  be  photographed, 
possibly  she  was  merely  "  a  bit  balmy,"  or  pos- 
sibly she  was  an  advertisement  for  something, 
and  would  begin  to  distribute  hand-bills  pres- 
ently. So  far,  she  merely  looked  as  if  she 
wanted  to  cry. 

It  was  Robin  who  saw  her  first.  He  imme- 
diately stepped  over  his  newly- completed  touch- 
line,  and  taking  the  spotted  bundle  and  the 
tea -can  from  her  hands,  conducted  her  cere- 
moniously within  the  magic  circle,  saying,  in  a 
voice  much  more  like  his  own  than  before — 

"  Come  away,  lassie  !  " 

Dicky  looked  up  from  his  labours  at  this,  and 
beheld  his  fiancee  for  the  first  time.  All  he  said 
was — 

"  By  gad,  you've  done  it  after  all !     Bravo  ! " 

But  Dilly  did  not  appear  to  be  at  all  gratified 


134  Raw  Material 

She  merely  sat  on  Gerald's  little  mountain  of 
paving-blocks,  looking  as  if  she  could  not  decide 
whether  to  throw  her  apron  over  her  face  and 
scream,  or  take  a  header  into  the  wigwam.  My 
heart  bled  for  her  in  spite  of  her  folly.  The 
crowd,  deeply  interested  and  breathing  hard, 
stood  round  waiting  for  the  performance  to 
begin. 

It  was  Coaldust  who  took  the  lead. 

"Tip  us  a  song  and  dance,  Clara,"  he  said 
encouragingly. 

Robin,  who  had  been  making  a  show  of  un- 
fastening the  bundle,  suddenly  rose  to  his  feet. 
Coaldust  saw  him. 

"  All  right,  Carnegie,**  he  remarked  hurriedly. 
"  No  offence,  ole  pal ! " 

But  Robin  turned  to  Dicky,  and  the  two  held 
a  hasty  conversation,  whose  nature  I  could  guess. 
Dilly  could  not  be  exposed  to  this  sort  of  thing 
any  longer.  They  began  to  put  on  their  coats. 

"They  are  going  to  give  it  up,"  I  said,  not 
without  relief.  "  About  time,  isn't  it  ?  Do  you 
recognise  them,  Champion  ?  " 

But  Champion,  I  found,  was  gone — probably 
to  establish  an  alibi.  Perhaps  he  was  right. 
Questions  might  be  asked  in  the  House  about 
this. 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      135 

When  I  turned  again  to  the  scene  below  I 
found  that  the  crowd  had  thickened  consider- 
ably, and  that  the  policeman  had  once  more 
left  the  traffic  to  congest  itself,  and  joined  in 
the  game. 

"  You  must  tell  that  young  woman  to  move 
on,"  he  said  to  Dicky,  not  unkindly.  "  She's 
causin'  a  crowd  to  collect,  and  that's  a  thing 
she  can  be  give  in  charge  for." 

"All  right,"  said  Dicky  hurriedly,  "we're  all 
going." 

The  policeman,  struck  by  this  sudden  anxiety 
to  oblige,  became  suspicious. 

"  All  of  you  ?  "  he  said.  "  'Ow  about  this  mess 
in  the  road  ? " 

Robin  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  We'll  be  back  presently  and  sort  it,"  he  said 
reassuringly. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Dicky,  pulling  himself  to- 
gether. "  Back  in  'arf  a  tick,  governor  ! " 

"  Don't  you  go  callin'  me  names,"  said  the 
policeman,  as  the  spectators  indulged  in  happy 
laughter. 

"  Sorry  !  —  I  mean,  certainly  !  "  said  Dicky, 
getting  flustered.  (I  could  see  Robin  glowering 
at  him.)  "We  are  just  going  down  the  street 
a  minute.  This — er — girl  has  brought  us  a  bit 


136  Raw  Material 

of  bad  news.     There's  been  an  accident  happened 
_pr » 

d. 

"  To  her  puir  old  mither,"  put  in  Robin,  whom 
I  began  to  suspect  of  rather  enjoying  this  enter- 
tainment for  its  own  sake. 

This  heartrending  piece  of  intelligence  touched 
the  crowd,  and  Coaldust  was  instantly  forward 
in  proposing  an  informal  vote  of  condolence, 
which  was  seconded  by  a  bare-armed  lady  in  a 
deerstalker  cap.  But  the  policeman,  evidently 
roused  by  our  friends'  ill-judged  and  precipitate 
attempt  to  strike  camp,  suddenly  produced  a 
pocket-book  from  his  tunic,  and  said — 

"It  is  my  duty  to  take  your  names  and 
addresses,  together  with  the  name  of  the  firm 
employing  you." 

This  announcement  obviously  disconcerted 
Dicky  and  Robin;  for  it  is  one  thing  to  take 
part  in  a  masquerade,  and  another  to  get  out 
of  the  consequences  thereof  by  cold-drawn  lying. 

However,  the  policeman  was  sucking  his  pencil 
and  waiting,  so  Dicky  said — 

"You  can  get  all  the  information  you  want 
from  the  Borough  Surveyor." 

It  was  a  bold  effort,  but  the  policeman  merely 
said — 

"  Your  name,  please  ! " 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      137 

Dicky,  fairly  cornered,  replied — 

"  Er  —  Samuel " — I  thought  at  first  he  was 
going  to  say  "  Inglethwaite,"  and  was  prepared 
to  drop  a  flower-pot  on  his  head  if  he  did ;  but 
he  continued,  with  the  air  of  one  offering  a  real 
bargain  at  the  price — "  Phillipps." 

"  Two  P's  ? "  inquired  the  constable. 

"  Three,"  said  Dicky. 

The  policeman  rolled  a  threatening  eye  upon 
him. 

"  Be  careful ! "  he  said  in  an  awful  voice. 

"  One  of  them  comes  at  the  beginning,"  said 
Dicky  meekly. 

"  Haw,  haw ! "  roared  several  people  in  the 
crowd,  which  was  unfortunate  for  Dicky.  He 
was  one  of  those  people  who  would  risk  a 
kingdom  to  raise  a  laugh. 

"  Address  ? "  continued  the  policeman. 

"Buck'nam  Pallis!"  shouted  Coaldust,  before 
any  one  else  in  the  crowd  could  say  it. 

The  policeman  turned  and  directed  upon  him 
a  look  that  would  have  entirely  obfuscated  a 
soberer  man. 

"I'll  attend  to  you  presently,"  he  said  in  the 
exact  tones  which  my  dentist  employs  when  he 
shuts  me  into  the  waiting-room.  "  Now  then, 
your  address  ?  Come  along  !  " 


138  Raw  Material 

Dicky  gave  some  address  which  I  did  not 
catch,  and  the  representative  of  the  law  turned 
to  Robin.  The  latter  evidently  saw  rocks  ahead 
if  the  inquisition  was  to  be  extended  to  the 
whole  party.  He  said — 

"  Surely  there  is  no  need  to  take  any  more 
names." 

"  I'll  be  responsible  for  the  lot,"  added  Dicky 
eagerly — too  eagerly.  "  Now  let's  be  off !  Come 
along  Di — Liza  ! " 

He  took  Dilly  by  the  arm,  and,  preceded  by 
Gerald,  began  to  press  through  the  crowd,  which 
by  this  time  extended  almost  right  across  the 
street. 

But  the  now  thoroughly  aroused  guardian  of 
the  peace,  determined  not  to  be  rushed  like  this, 
broke  away  from  Robin,  who  was  engaging  him 
in  pleasant  conversation,  and,  hastening  after  the 
retreating  group,  laid  a  detaining  and  imperious 
hand  on  Dilly's  arm. 

What  happened  next  I  was  not  quick  enough 
to  see.  But  there  was  a  swirl  and  a  heave  in 
the  crowd,  and  presently  Dicky  became  visible, 
standing  in  a  very  heroic  attitude  with  his  arm 
round  Dilly  ;  while  the  policeman,  with  an  awe- 
inspiring  deliberateness  which  implied  "  Now 
you  have  gone  and  done  it ! "  extricated  himself 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      139 

majestically  but  painfully  from  the  chasm  in  the 
road  which  had  recently  been  occupying  Dicky's 
attention,  and  into  which  Dicky  in  defence  of 
his  beloved  had  apparently  pushed  him. 

Picking  up  his  pocket-book  and  putting  it 
back  into  his  chest,  and  uttering  the  single  and 
awful  word  "  Assault ! "  the  policeman  produced 
a  whistle  and  blew  it. 

Things  were  certainly  getting  serious,  and  I 
had  just  decided  to  send  out  the  hotel  porter 
to  the  policeman  to  tell  him  to  bring  his  cap- 
tives inside  out  of  the  way  of  the  crowd,  when 
I  noticed  that  Robin  was  ploughing  his  way 
towards  the  outskirts  of  the  throng,  waving  his 
arm  as  he  went.  Then  I  saw  that  his  objective 
was  another  policeman — an  Inspector  this  time. 
He  was  a  gigantic  creature,  and  Robin  and  he, 
slowly  forging  towards  each  other  through  the 
surrounding  sea  of  faces,  looked  like  two  liners 
in  a  tideway. 

Robin's  conduct  in  deliberately  attracting  the 
notice  of  yet  another  representative  of  law 
and  order  appeared  eccentric  on  the  face  of  it, 
but  his  subsequent  behaviour  was  more  peculiar 
still. 

He  seized  the  newly-arrived  giant  by  the  arm, 
and  drew  him  apart  from  the  crowd,  where  he 


140  Raw  Material 

told  him  something  which  appeared  to  amuse 
them  both  considerably. 

"  Yewmorous  dialogue,"  announced  Coaldust  to 
his  neighbours,  "  between  Cleopartrer's  Needle 
and  the  Moniment ! " 

But  it  was  more  than  that, — it  was  deep 
calling  to  deep.  Presently  the  explanation,  or 
the  joke,  or  whatever  it  was,  came  to  an  end, 
and  the  Inspector  advanced  threateningly  upon 
the  crowd. 

"  Pass  along,  there,  pass  along  ! "  he  cried  with 
a  devastating  sweep  of  his  arm.  He  spoke  with 
a  Highland  accent,  and  I  realised  yet  once  more 
the  ubiquity  of  that  great  Mutual  Benefit  Society 
which  has  its  headquarters  north  of  the  Tweed. 

The  crowd  politely  receded  about  six  inches, 
and  through  them,  accompanied  by  Robin,  the 
Inspector  clove  his  way  to  the  encampment, 
where  Dicky,  who  seemed  to  be  rapidly  losing 
his  head,  was  delivering  a  sort  of  recitative  to 
every  one  in  general,  accompanied  by  the  police- 
man on  the  whistle. 

What  the  Inspector  said  to  his  subordinate 
I  do  not  know,  but  the  net  result  was  that 
in  a  very  short  time  the  former  was  escorting 
the  entire  party  of  excavators  down  the  street, 
attended  by  a  retinue  of  small  boys  (who  were 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      141 

evidently  determined  to  see  if  it  was  going  to 
turn  out  a  hanging  matter) ;  while  the  latter, 
to  whom  the  clearing  of  the  "  house "  had  evi- 
dently been  deputed,  set  about  that  task  with 
a  vigour  and  ferocity  which  plainly  indicated  a 
well-meaning  and  zealous  mind  tingling  under 
an  entirely  undeserved  official  snub. 

They  told  me  all  about  it  in  the  smoking-room 
that  night. 

"  The  idea,"  began  Dicky,  "  was— 

"  Whose  idea  was  it  ?  "  I  inquired  sternly. 

"It  was  all  of  our  idea,"  replied  my  future 
relative  by  marriage  lucidly. 

"But  who  worked  it  out?"  I  asked,  —  "the 
plot,  the  business,  the  '  props '  ?  It  was  a  most 
elaborate  production." 

"  Never  you  mind  that,  old  man,"  said  Dicky 
lightly.  (But  I  saw  that  Robin  was  laboriously 
relighting  his  pipe  and  surrounding  himself  with 
an  impenetrable  cloud  of  smoke.)  "Listen  to 
the  yarn.  The  idea  was  to  stake  out  a  claim 
in  some  fairly  busy  road  and  stay  there  for  a 
given  time — say,  six  o'clock  till  tea-time — and 
kid  the  passing  citizens  that  we  were  duly 
authorised  to  get  in  the  way  and  mess  up  the 
traffic  generally.  If  we  succeeded  we  were 


142  Raw  Material 

going  to  write  to  The  Times  or  some  such 
paper  and  tell  what  we  had  done  —  anony- 
mously, of  course — just  to  show  how  necessary 
Champion's  Bill  is." 

"  Have  you  written  the  letter  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  wouldn't  send  it  if  I  were  you." 

"Well,  that's  what  Robin  here  has  been 
saying." 

"  Putrid  rot  if  we  don't ! "  remarked  Gerald, 
who  had  by  this  time  washed  his  face,  but  ought 
to  have  been  in  bed  for  all  that. 

"We  can't  do  it,"  said  Robin.  "For  one 
thing,  we  have  attracted  quite  enough  public 
attention  already,  —  it's  bound  to  be  in  the 
papers  anyhow,  now,  and  that  will  probably 
give  the  Bill  all  the  advertisement  it  needs, — 
and  if  we  give  the  authorities  any  more  clues 
our  names  may  come  out.  For  another  thing, 
it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  Hector  MacPherson." 

"  Who  is  he  ? " 

"  That  Inspector  who  came  up  at  the  critical 
moment.  He  was  one  of  my  first  friends  in 
London." 

"  I  remember.     Go  on." 

"  I  was  thankful  to  see  him,  I  can  tell  you. 
Well,  he  undertook  to  square  that  poor  be- 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,   Etc.      143 

wildered  bobby,   and  to  take    steps  to  get  the 
road  cleared  and  the  hole  filled  up." 

"How?" 

"  There  is  a  street  being  mended  just  round 
the  corner,  and  he  said  he  would  get  the 
foreman  of  the  gang,  who  is  a  relation  of 
his  wife's,  to  send  a  couple  of  men  to  put 
things  right  immediately.  It's  probably  done 
by  now." 

"  Then  I  suppose  we  may  regard  the  incident 
as  closed." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

There  was  a  silence. 

"It  was  a  bit  of  a  failure  at  the  finish,"  said 
Dicky  meditatively,  "  but  it  was  a  success  on 
the  whole — what  ?  " 

"  Rather  !  "  said  his  fellow-conspirators. 

"  Our  chief  difficulty,"  continued  Dicky,  "  was 
to  decide  on  the  exact  type  of  drama  to  present. 
I  was  all  for  our  dressing  up  as  foreigners,  and 
relaying  an  asphalte  street.  It  would  have 
been  top-hole  to  trot  about  in  list  slippers  and 
pat  the  hot  asphalte  down  with  those  things 
they  use.  And  think  of  the  make-up ! — curly 
moustaches  and  earrings !  And  we  could  have 
jabbered  spoof  Italian.  But  then  old  Robin 
here,  who  I  must  say  has  a  headpiece  on  him, 


144  Raw  Material 

pointed  out  that  the  scenery  and  props  would 
be  much  too  expensive.  We  should  want  a 
cart  with  a  bonfire  in  it  and  a  sort  of  witches' 
cauldron  on  top,  and  all  kinds  of  sticky  stuff; 
so  we  gave  up  that  scheme.  We  did  not  feel 
inclined  to  mess  with  gas-pipes  or  electric  wires 
either,  in  case  we  burst  ourselves  up ;  so  we 
finally  decided  to  select  some  street  with  a 
wooden  pavement,  and  maul  it  about  generally 
for  as  long  as  we  could.  If  we  got  interfered 
with  by  anybody  official,  we  meant  to  talk  some 
rot  about  the  Borough  Surveyor,  and  skedaddle 
if  necessary.  But  it  all  worked  beautifully  ! " 

"  Where  did  you  get  your  tools  and  tent  ? " 

"  Robin  managed  that,"  said  Dicky  admiringly. 

Robin  looked  extremely  dour,  and  I  refrained 
from  further  inquiry. 

"  Robin's  got  some  rum  pals,  I  don't  think ! " 
observed  Gerald  pertinently. 

"  Didn't  I  make  these  chaps  up  well  ? " 
continued  Dicky  enthusiastically.  "  We  roared 
when  you  passed  us  at  breakfast -time  without 
spotting  us." 

"Very  creditable  impersonation,"  I  replied, 
getting  up  and  knocking  my  pipe  out.  "  I 
only  hope  I  shan't  have  to  resign  my  seat 
over  it.  If  I  may  venture  to  offer  a  criticism, 


Of  a  Pit  that  was  Digged,  Etc.      145 

the  weak  spot  in  the  enterprise  was  the  idea 
of  inviting  your  lady  friends  to  come  and  take 
tea  with  you." 

"Just  what  I  said  all  along,  my  boy,  remarked 
the  experienced  Gerald,  wagging  his  head  sagely. 
"  That  was  what  mucked  up  the  show.  Wher- 
ever there's  a  petticoat  there's  trouble.  Oh,  I 
warned  them ! " 

On  my  way  up  to  bed  I  flushed  Dilly  from 
a  window -seat  on  the  staircase,  where  she  had 
evidently  been  lingering  on  the  off-chance  of 
a  supplementary  good-night  from  Dicky. 

"  Well  ?  "  I  said  severely. 

"Well?" 

"  Do  you  know  what  time  it  is  "? " 

"  I  expect  your  wife  will  tell  you  that  when 
you  get  upstairs,"  said  Dilly. 

I  tried  a  fresh  line. 

"After  the  labours  of  to-day,  I  should  have 
thought  you  would  have  been  glad  to  go  to 
bed,"  I  said.  "You  imp!"  And  I  laughed. 
There  is  something  very  disarming  about  the 
Twins'  misdemeanours. 

We  turned  and  walked  upstairs  together,  and 
paused  outside  Dilly's  door. 

"  Good-night,  Dilly,"  I  said.  "  I  admired  your 
pluck." 

K 


146  Raw  Material 

"It  wasn't  me,"  said  Dilly,  in  a  very  small 
voice. 

"Not  you?" 

"N-no.  I  said  I  would  come,  because  Dicky 
said  I  daren't,  and  at  the  last  moment  I  funked 
it.  (Adrian,  I  simply  couldn't ! )  So  Dolly  went 
instead." 

"  Then  that  was  Dolly  all  the  time  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  she  went,  just  to — to " 

"  To  save  my  face.     She's  a  brick,"  said  Dilly. 

This,  by  the  way,  was  the  first  occasion  on 
which  I  realised  the  truth  of  Robin's  dictum 
that  Dilly  and  Dolly  were  girls  of  widely 
different  character. 

"  And  didn't  the  others  recognise  her  ? " 

"  No.     That's  the  best  of  it ! " 

"  Not  Dicky  ?  " 

"No." 

"Not  even  Robin?  He  is  pretty  hard  to 
deceive,  you  know." 

"No,  not  even  Robin.  None  of  them  know. 
Good-night ! " 

But  she  was  wrong. 


147 


CHAPTER    NINE. 

THE  POLICY  OF  THE  CLOSED  DOOR. 

DILLY*S  wedding  took  place  the  following  summer, 
just  before  Parliament  rose,  and  the  resources 
of  our  establishment  were  strained  to  the  utter- 
most to  give  her  a  fitting  send-off. 

It  is  true  that  a  noble  relative,  the  head  of 
my  wife's  family,  offered  his  house  for  the  re- 
ception, but  Dilly  emphatically  declined  to  be 
married  from  any  but  mine,  saying  prettily 
that  she  would  not  leave  the  roof  under  which 
she  had  lived  so  happily  until  the  last  possible 
moment. 

Accordingly  we  made  immense  preparations. 
The  drawing-room  on  the  first  floor,  accus- 
tomed though  it  was  to  accommodate  congested 
and  half-stifled  throngs  of  human  beings,  was 
deemed  too  small  for  the  mob  of  wedding-guests 
whom  Kitty  expected. 

"  You    see,    dear,"    she    explained,    "  we    can 


148  Raw  Material 

squash  up  good  people  as  much  as  we  like, 
because  their  clothes  don't  matter ;  but  women 
in  wedding -frocks  will  be  furious  if  they  don't 
get  enough  elbow-room  to  show  themselves." 

Accordingly  a  marquee  was  erected  in  the 
garden  at  the  back  of  the  house,  opening  into 
the  dining-room  through  the  French  windows, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  Dicky  and  Dilly  were 
to  take  their  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  same, 
what  time  the  guests,  having  lubricated  their 
utterance  at  the  bujfet  in  the  dining-room  en 
route,  filed  past  and  delivered  their  congratula- 
tions. After  that  the  company  was  to  overflow 
into  the  garden,  there  to  be  moved  by  a  con- 
cord of  sweet  sounds  emanating  from  a  band  of 
assassins  in  pseudo- Hungarian  uniforms. 

"And  if  it  rains,"  concluded  Kitty  desper- 
ately, "they  must  have  an  overflow  meeting 
in  the  basement — that's  all ! " 

My  library,  as  I  had  feared,  was  appropriated 
for  the  presents,  and  for  several  days  I  trans- 
acted the  business  of  State  at  the  wash-hand- 
stand in  my  dressing-room,  while  a  stream  of 
callers,  ranging  from  the  members  of  a  Working 
Men's  Club  in  which  Dilly  was  fitfully  interested, 
down  to  an  organisation  of  Kitty's  whose  exact 
title  I  can  never  recall  (but  which  Dicky,  on 


The  Policy  of  the  Closed  Door      149 

first  seeing  them,  immediately  summed  up  as 
"  The  Hundred  Worst  Women "),  filed  solemnly 
past  rows  of  filigree  coffee-services,  silver-backed 
hair-brushes,  and  art  pen-wipers. 

Of  the  bride-elect  I  saw  little,  and  when  I 
did,  she  was  usually  standing,  in  a  state  of 
considerable  deshabille,  amid  a  kneeling  group 
of  myrmidons,  who,  with  mouths  filled  with 
pins  and  brows  seamed  with  anxiety,  were  re- 
morselessly building  her  into  some  edifice  of 
shimmering  silk  and  filmy  lace,  oblivious  of  their 
victim's  plaintive  intimations  that  she  was  fit 
to  drop. 

Dicky  invited  Robin  to  be  his  best  man,  a 
proceeding  which,  while  it  roused  some  surprise 
among  those  who  were  expecting  him  to  fix 
upon  a  friend  of  longer  standing  and  greater 
distinction,  showed  his  good  sense,  for  my 
secretary  proved  himself  a  model  of  organis- 
ation and  helpfulness.  Although  born  and 
reared  up  in  the  straitest  sect  of  some  Scottish 
denomination,  about  which  I  am  unable  to 
particularise  beyond  the  fact  that  they  regarded 
the  use  of  harmoniums  in  churches  as  "  the 
worship  of  men's  feet,"  he  betrayed  a  surprising 
knowledge  of  Anglican  ritual  and  stage  effect. 

On    the    wedding    morning,    having    left    the 


150  Raw  Material 

bridegroom  securely  tucked  up  in  bed,  under 
strict  orders  not  to  get  up  till  he  was  called, 
Robin  personally  conducted  a  select  party  of 
those  interested — Dolly,  Dilly,  another  brides- 
maid, and  myself — to  the  church,  where  he 
showed  us  the  exact  positions  of  our  entrances 
and  exits ;  and  then  proceeded,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  Dolly,  to  plant  hassocks  about  the 
chancel  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  us  no 
doubts  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  our  moorings 
(or  "stances,"  as  he  called  them)  at  the  actual 
ceremony. 

The  party  was  reinforced  at  this  point  by 
the  arrival  of  no  less  a  person  than  the  bride- 
groom, who,  having  risen  from  his  slumbers  in 
defiance  of  Robin's  injunctions,  was  now  pro- 
ceeding to  infringe  the  laws  of  propriety  by 
coming  in  search  of  his  beloved  four  hours 
before  he  was  entitled  to  do  so. 

However,  as  Dilly  rather  pessimistically 
pointed  out,  it  was  probably  the  last  time  she 
would  ever  get  a  kind  word  out  of  him,  so 
we  gave  them  ten  minutes  together  in  the 
porch,  while  Robin  interviewed  vergers  and 
Dolly  intimidated  perspiring  persons  with  red 
carpets  and  evergreens. 

On  our  return  home  Dilly  was  snatched  away 


The  Policy  of  the  Closed  Door      151 

by  a  cloud  of  attendant  sprites,  and  we  saw 
her  no  more  until  the  time  came  for  me  to 
drive  her  to  the  church.  We  heard  of  her, 
though ;  for  as  we  sat  at  luncheon,  plying  the 
bridegroom  (who  had  collapsed  after  the  com- 
plete and  inevitable  fashion  of  his  kind  about 
twelve  o'clock)  with  raw  brandy,  a  message  came 
down  from  the  upper  regions,  to  the  effect  that 
Miss  Dilly  would  take  a  couple  of  veal  cutlets 
and  a  glass  of  Burgundy,  as  she  wasn't  going 
to  be  a  pale  bride  if  she  could  help  it ! 

However,  this  half- hysterical  gaiety  came  to 
an  end  in  the  face  of  reality,  and  in  the  carriage 
on  the  way  to  church  poor  Dilly  wept  unre- 
strainedly on  my  shoulder.  I  mopped  her  up 
to  the  best  of  my  ability,  but  she  was  still 
sobbing  when  we  reached  the  church  door,  to 
find  the  six  bridesmaids,  together  with  Phillis 
(inordinately  proud  of  her  office  of  train-bearer), 
preening  themselves  in  the  porch. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  the  organ  should 
break  into  "  The  March  of  the  Priests,"  from 
'Athalie' — Dicky's  petition  in  favour  of  an 
ecclesiastical  rendering  of  "The  Eton  Boating 
Song"  had  been  thrown  out  with  ignominy — 
as  the  bridal  procession  entered  the  nave.  Un- 
fortunately the  organ-loft  was  out  of  sight  of 


152    •  Raw  Material 

the  west  door,  by  which  we  were  to  enter,  and 
the  conveyance  of  the  starting- signal  to  the 
proper  quarter  at  exactly  the  right  moment 
was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty.  However, 
Robin's  gift  for  stage-management  was  sufficient 
to  meet  the  emergency.  When  all  was  ready 
Dolly  calmly  mounting  the  steps  of  the  font  to 
an  eminence  which  commanded  a  precarious  but 
sufficient  view  of  the  body  of  the  church,  briefly 
fluttered  a  scrap  of  lace  handkerchief,  and  then 
stepped  demurely  down  into  her  place  at  the 
head  of  the  bridesmaids.  Simultaneously  the 
organ  burst  into  the  opening  strains  of  Mendel- 
sohn's march — I  suppose  Robin  had  been  waiting 
at  some  point  of  vantage  to  pass  the  signal  on 
— and  we  advanced  up  the  aisle,  amid  a  general 
turning  of  heads  and  flutter  of  excitement. 

The  church  was  packed.  In  the  back  pew 
I  remember  noticing  three  young  men  with 
pads  of  flimsy  paper  and  well -sucked  pencils. 
I  distinctly  caught  sight  of  the  words  "  Sacred 
edifice"  in  the  nearest  MS.,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  the  others  contained  it  as  well. 

But  Dilly  was  still  quaking  on  my  arm,  and 
the  only  other  spectacle  which  attracted  my 
attention  on  the  way  up  the  aisle  was  that 
of  my  wife  (looking  very  like  a  bride  herself,  I 


The  Policy  of  the  Closed  Door      153 

thought),  sitting  in  a  front  pew  with  Master 
Gerald,  that  infant  phenomenon  shining  re- 
splendently  in  a  white  waistcoat  and  a  "  button- 
hole "  which  almost  entirely  obscured  his  features. 
Then  I  caught  sight  of  Robin's  towering  shoulders 
and  the  pale  face  and  glassy  eye  of  the  bride- 
groom, and  I  knew  that  we  had  brought  our 
horses  to  the  water  at  last,  and  all  that  now 
remained  to  do  was  to  make  them  drink. 

The  rest  of  the  ceremony  passed  off  with  due 
impressiveness,  if  we  except  a  slight  contretemps 
arising  from  the  behaviour  of  my  daughter,  who, 
suddenly  remembering  that  the  junior  brides- 
maid but  one  had  not  yet  passed  any  opinion 
on  her  new  shoes,  suddenly  sat  down  on  the 
bride's  train,  and,  thrusting  the  shoes  into 
unmaidenly  prominence,  audibly  invited  that 
giggling  damsel's  approbation  of  the  same. 
However,  the  ever  -  ready  organ  drowned  her 
utterance  with  a  timely  Amen,  and  Dicky  and 
Dilly  completed  the  plighting  of  their  troth 
with  becoming  shyness  but  obvious  sincerity. 

Then  came  the  inevitable  orgy  of  osculation  in 
the  vestry,  from  which  I  escaped  with  nothing 
worse,  so  to  speak,  than  a  few  scratches,  despite 
an  unprovoked  and  unexpected  flank  attack 
(when  I  was  signing  the  register)  from  an 


154  Raw  Material 

elderly  female  in  bugles,  whom  I  at  first  took  to 
be  a  rather  giddy  pew-opener,  but  who  ultimately 
proved  to  be  a  maiden  aunt  of  the  bridegroom's. 

After  Dicky  and  Dilly  —  the  latter  miracu- 
lously restored  to  high  spirits  and  looking 
radiant — had  passed  smiling  and  blushing  down 
the  aisle,  to  be  received  outside  with  breathless 
stares  by  a  large  assemblage  of  that  peculiar 
class  of  people — chiefly  females  of  a  certain  age 
— who  seem  to  spend  their  lives  in  attending 
the  weddings  of  total  strangers,  we  all  got 
home,  where  there  was  much  champagne,  and 
cake-cutting,  and  bride-kissing,  and  melody  from 
the  aforementioned  musicians  in  the  garden. 

The  presents — guarded  with  an  air  of  studied 
aloofness  by  a  wooden-jointed  detective,  clad  in 
garments  of  such  festal  splendour  as  to  delude 
several  short  -  sighted  old  gentlemen  into  an 
impression  that  he  was  the  bridegroom — played 
their  usual  invaluable  part  in  promoting  cir- 
culation among  the  guests,  and  supplying  a 
topic  for  conversation.  They  certainly  sparkled 
and  glittered  bravely  in  the  library,  where  the 
blinds  were  drawn  and  the  electric  lamps  turned 
on.  (Kitty  had  seen  to  that.  Silver  looks  so 
well  by  artificial  light,  and  so,  by  a  happy  and 
unpremeditated  coincidence,  does  the  female  sex.) 


The  Policy  of  the  Closed  Door      155 

The  bride  and  bridegroom  departed  at  last, 
amid  a  shower  of  rice,  with  that  emblem  of 
conjugal  felicity,  the  satin  slipper,  firmly  ad- 
hering to  the  back  of  the  brougham.  (Master 
Gerald  had  seen  to  that.)  Then  the  guests 
began  to  make  their  adieux  and  melt  away, 
and  presently  we  found  ourselves  alone  in  the 
marquee,  a  prey  to  that  swift  and  penetrating 
melancholy  that  descends  upon  those  who  begin 
to  be  festive  too  early  in  the  day,  and  find 
themselves  unable  to  keep  it  up  till  bed-time. 

However,  there  was  a  recrudescence  of  activ- 
ity and  brightness  in  the  evening,  as  the  idea 
of  a  small  dance  had  been  proposed  and  carried, 
and  the  invitations  issued  and  accepted,  during 
the  five  minutes  which  witnessed  the  departure 
of  the  more  intimate  section  of  the  guests. 

When  I  returned  from  the  House  about  mid- 
night—  I  had  gone  there  chiefly  to  dine,  as 
lobster  claws  and  melted  ices  appeared  to  be 
the  only  fare  in  prospect  at  home  —  tired  to 
death,  and  conscious  of  an  incipient  cold  in  the 
head,  arising  from  forced  residence  in  a  house 
in  which  hardly  a  door  had  been  on  its  hinges 
for  three  days,  I  became  aware  that  I  was  once 
again  the  lessee  of  a  cave  of  harmony. 


156  Raw  Material 

The  pseudo-Hungarian  assassins  were  pound- 
ing out  the  latest  waltz,  with  a  disregard  for 
time  and  tune  which  I  at  first  attributed  to 
champagne,  but  which  a  closer  survey  proved 
to  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  band  was  being 
conducted,  surprising  as  it  may  seem,  by  my 
brother-in-law,  who  had  kindly  undertaken  to 
wield  the  baton,  while  the  Chief  Tormentor  (or 
whatever  his  proper  title  may  have  been) 
charged  himself  anew  at  the  refreshment 
counter.  A  popping  of  corks  in  the  supper- 
room  apprised  me  of  the  fact  that  my  guests 
were  doing  their  best,  at  my  expense,  to  make 
the  Excise  Returns  a  more  cheerful  feature  of 
next  year's  Budget. 

I  went  upstairs  in  search  of  a  white  waistcoat 
and  one  or  two  other  necessary  contributions  to 
the  festivity  of  the  evening,  picking  my  way 
with  the  utmost  care  among  the  greatly  -  en- 
grossed couples  who  impeded  every  step ;  and 
finally  arrived  at  my  dressing-room,  to  find  that 
that  hallowed  apartment  had  been  turned  into 
a  ladies'  cloak-room,  and  that  every  available 
article  of  furniture  stood  elbow-deep  under  some 
attractive  combination  of  furs  and  feathers 

I  unearthed  the  things  I  required,  but  lacked 
the  courage  to  stay  and  put  them  on.  At  any 


The  Policy  of  the  Closed  Door      157 

moment  I  might  be  invaded  by  a  damsel  who 
had  met  with  some  mishap  in  the  heat  of  the 
fray,  and  was  now  desirous,  as  they  say  in  the 
navy,  of  "  executing  repairs  while  under  steam." 
I  accordingly  left  the  room  and  mounted  towards 
the  top  of  the  house.  I  had  in  my  mind's  eye 
a  snug  little  apartment,  situated  somewhere  in 
the  attics,  devoted  chiefly  to  dressmaking  opera- 
tions, where  I  knew  there  was  a  mirror,  and  I 
might  complete  my  toilet  in  peace. 

With  becoming  modesty  I  penetrated  to  this 
haven  by  the  back-stairs.  I  had  just  reached  the 
top,  which  was  opposite  the  door  in  question, 
when  I  heard  voices.  Evidently  some  one  was 
coming  up  to  this  same  landing  by  the  front  stair. 

A  man  does  not  look  his  best  when  found 
creeping  up  his  own  back -stairs  with  a  white 
waistcoat  in  one  hand  and  a  pair  of  pumps  in 
the  other,  and  I  confess  I  retreated  downwards 
and  backwards  a  couple  of  paces.  The  stair 
on  which  I  stood  was  unlighted,  and  I  had  a 
good  view  of  the  landing. 

The  voices  came  nearer,  and  I  could  now  hear 
the  rustling  of  silks  and  laces.  Presently  I 
recognised  the  voices,  and  immediately  after 
this  their  owners  came  into  view,  with  their 
backs  almost  towards  me. 


158  Raw  Material 

"This  is  the  room  I  mean,"  said  the  man, 
indicating  my  goal. 

"That!  All  right!  Only  I  don't  see  why 
you  should  drag  me  all  the  way  up  here,"  said 
the  girl.  "There  are  much  nicer  sitting -out 
places  downstairs.  Still,  anything  for  a  rest. 
Come  on ! " 

She  entered  the  room,  followed  by  her  partner. 
I  saw  his  broad  back  for  a  moment  as  it  filled 
the  doorway.  Then  he  turned  in  my  direction 
with  his  hand  on  the  handle,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  he  hesitated  a  moment. 

Finally  he  shut  the  door  firmly,  and — I  dis- 
tinctly heard  the  key  turned  in  the  lock. 

I  went  downstairs  again. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  last 
guest  had  gone,  the  domestics  had  retired  to 
their  subterranean  retreat,  and  the  musicians 
had  all  been  booked  through  to  Saffron  Hill  in 
one  cab. 

The  dawn  was  just  breaking  over  the  house- 
tops on  the  other  side  of  the  square,  and  the 
sky  was  bathed  in  a  curious  heather -coloured 
light — a  sure  sign  of  a  wet  day  to  come,  said 
hill-bred  Robin.  We  stood  out  on  the  steps, — 
Kitty,  Dolly,  Robin,  and  I, — and  Kitty  put  her 


The  Policy  of  the  Closed  Door      159 

arm  round  her  sister's  waist.  I  knew  she  was 
thinking  of  the  absent  Dilly. 

Behind  us,  in  the  hall,  Master  Gerald,  com- 
pletely surfeited  with  about  sixteen  crowded 
hours  of  glorious  life,  lay  fast  asleep  on  a 
settee. 

I  looked  curiously  at  Dolly  as  she  leaned  on 
her  sister's  shoulder.  She  was  half  a  head 
taller  than  Kitty,  and  as  she  stood  there,  rosily 
flushed,  in  the  dawn  of  her  splendid  woman- 
hood, she  might  have  stood  for  the  very  goddess 
whose  first  rays  were  now  falling  on  her  up- 
turned face  and  glinting  hair. 

Then  I  looked  at  Robin,  towering  beside  her, 
and  suddenly  I  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  myself. 

For  to  tell  the  truth  I  had  been  very  unhappy 
that  evening,  and  I  had  been  looking  forward 
in  a  few  minutes'  time  to  unburdening  myself 
to  Kitty  about  recent  events.  But  as  I  sur- 
veyed Dolly  and  Robin,  curiously  alike  in  their 
upright  carriage  and  steady  gaze,  I  suddenly 
realised  that  such  a  pair  could  safely  be  trusted 
to  steer  their  own  course ;  and  I  decided  there 
and  then  not  to  communicate  even  to  Kitty — 
my  wife  and  Dolly's  sister — the  knowledge  of 
what  I  had  seen  that  night. 

Kitty  turned  impulsively  to  her  sister. 


160  Raw  Material 

"  After  all,  I've  stiil  got  you,  Dolly,"  she  said. 

I  took  a  furtive  glance  at  Robin's  inscrutable 
countenance. 

"  I — wonder ! "  I  said  to  myself 

"  What,  dear  ?  "  said  Kitty. 

"Nothing.  I  must  carry  this  young  ruffian 
up  to  bed,  I  suppose." 

Curiosity  has  been  most  unfairly  ear-marked 
as  the  exclusive  monopoly  of  the  female  sex. 
But  as  I  stumbled  upstairs  that  night,  bearing 
in  my  arms  the  limp  but  stertorous  carcase  of 
my  esteemed  relative  by  marriage,  I  could  not 
help  wondering  (despite  my  efforts  to  put  away 
from  me  a  matter  which  I  had  decided  was  not 
my  business)  exactly  what  Robin  had  said  to 
Dolly  behind  that  locked  door. 


CHAPTER    TEN. 
ROBIN'S  WAY  OF  DOING  IT. 

WHAT  happened  when  Robin  locked  the  door  on 
himself  and  Dolly  is  now  set  down  here.  Strictly 
speaking  it  ought  to  come  later,  but  there  is  no 
need  to  make  a  mystery  about  it.  I  have  taken 
the  account  of  the  proceedings  mainly  from  the 
letter  which  Dolly  wrote  to  Dilly  three  days 
later. 

It  would  be  useless  to  reproduce  that  docu- 
ment in  full.  In  the  first  place,  it  contains 
a  good  deal  that  is  not  only  irrelevant 
but  absolutely  incomprehensible.  There  is  one 
mysterious  passage,  for  instance,  occurring  right 
in  the  middle  of  the  letter,  beginning,  To  turn 
the  heel,  knit  to  three  beyond  the  seam-stitch, 
Jcnit  two  together,  purl  one,  turn:  then  knit  ten, 
knit  two  together,  knit  one,  purl  one  .  .  .  intro- 
duced by  an  airy,  "  By  the  way,  dear,  before  I 

L 


1 62  Raw  Material 

forget" which  appears  to  have  no  bearing 

on  the  context  whatever. 

In  the  second  place,  Dolly's  literary  style  is* 
as  breathlessly  devoid  of  punctuation  as  that 
of  most  of  her  sex.  Commas  and  notes  of  in- 
terrogation form  her  chief  stock-in-trade,  though 
underlining  is  freely  employed.  There  is  not  a 
single  full -stop  from  start  to  finish.  The  ex- 
tracts from  the  letter  here  reproduced  have  been 
edited  by  me.  Other  details  of  the  incident 
have  been  tactfully  extracted  by  Kitty  and 
myself — chiefly  Kitty,  I  must  confess — from  the 
principals  themselves,  and  the  whole  is  now 
offered  to  the  public,  unabridged,  with  marginal 
comments,  for  the  first  time. 

On  entering  the  little  room  on  the  landing 
Dolly  dropped  on  to  a  shabby  but  comfortable 
old  sofa  behind  the  door,  and  said,  with  a  con- 
tented sigh — 

"  I'm  so  tired,  Robin.  Aren't  you  ?  Let's  sit 
down  and  not  talk  till  it's  time  to  go  downstairs 
again.  It's — Robin,  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

Robin  was  locking  the  door. 

That  operation  completed,  he  turned  and  looked 
round  the  little  room.  There  was  an  arm-chair 
in  the  corner,  but  he  came  and  sat  down  on 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it          163 

the    sofa    beside    Dolly.       Dolly   gazed    at    him 
dumbly. 

"He  looked  so  utterly  grim  and  determined"  [says  the 
letter],  "that  my  heart  began  to  bump  in  a  perfectly 
fatuous  way.  I  felt  like  a  woman  who  is  going  to  be 
murdered  in  a  railway  tunnel. 

"  He  sat  down,  and  one  of  his  huge  hands  was  suddenly 
stretched  towards  me,  and  I  thought  at  first  he  was  trying 
to  grab  one  of  mine.  I  did  my  best  to  edge  away  along 
the  sofa,  but  I  was  up  against  the  end  already. 

"  Then  his  hand  opened,  and  something  dropped  into  my 
lap.  It  was  the  key  of  the  door. 

" '  I  have  locked  it,'  he  said,  '  not  with  any  intention 
of  keeping  you  in,  but  in  the  hope  of  keeping  other  people 
out.  You  are  perfectly  free  to  get  up  and  go  whenever 
you  please,  if  you  don't  wish  to  listen  to  what  I  have 
to  say.' 

"  Well,  dear,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  risen  to  my  full 
height,  and,  with  a  few  superb  gestures  of  haughty  con- 
tempt, have  swept  majestically  from  the  room.  But — I 
didn't !  I  saw  I  was  in  for  another  proposal,  and  as  the 
man  couldn't  eat  me  I  decided  to  let  him  do  his  worst. 

"  It  was  a  weird  proposal,  though."  [Spelt '  ivierd.']  "  It 
wasn't  exactly  what  he  said,  because  one  is  never  sur- 
prised at  anything  a  man  may  say  when  he  is  proposing ; 
but  the  way  he  said  it.  All  men  say  pretty  much  the 
same  thing  in  the  end,  but  most  of  them  are  so  horribly 
nervous  that  they  simply  don't  know  what  they're  talking 
about  for  the  first  five  minutes  or  so.  (Do  you  remember 
poor  little  Algy  Brock?  He  was  nearly  crying  all  the 
time.  At  least  he  was  with  me,  and  I  suppose  he  was 


164  Raw  Material 

with  you  too.)  But  Kobin  might  have  been  having 
a  chat  with  his  solicitor  the  way  he  behaved.  I'll  tell 
you  .  .  ." 

Robin  apparently  began  by  telling  Dolly,  quite 
simply  and  plainly,  that  he  loved  her.  Then  he 
gave  a  brief  outline  of  the  history  of  his  affection. 
It  had  begun  at  the  very  beginning  of  things,  he 
said,  almost  as  soon  as  he  discovered  that  he 
could  distinguish  Dolly  from  Dilly  without  the 
aid  of  the  browfc  spot.  "  And  that  was  after  I 
had  been  in  the  house  just  three  days,"  he  added. 

For  some  time,  it  appeared,  he  had  been  con- 
tent to  be  pleasantly  in  love.  He  enjoyed  Dolly's 
society  when  it  came  his  way,  but  with  native 
caution  he  had  taken  care  to  avoid  seeking  too 
much  of  it  in  case  he  should  gradually  find 
himself  unable  to  do  without  it. 

"  I  saw  from  the  first,"  he  said,  "  that  you  were 
entirely  unconscious  of  my  feelings  towards  you  ; 
and  I  would  not  have  had  it  otherwise.  If  I  was 
to  succeed  at  all  it  must  be  as  an  acquired  taste ; 
and  acquired  tastes,  as  you  know,  are  best  formed 
unconsciously." 

Dolly  nodded  to  show  her  detached  apprecia- 
tion of  the  soundness  of  this  point. 

"  I  permitted  myself  one  indulgence,"  Robin 
continued.  "  I  dedicated  a  book  to  you." 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it          165 

"  O-oh ! "  said  Dolly,  genuinely  interested. 
"  Was  that  me  ?  Dilly  and  I  thought  it  must 
be  a  girl  in  Scotland." 

Then  she  realised  that  this  was  a  step  down 
from  her  pedestal  of  aloofness,  and  was  silent 
again.  Robin  went  on — 

"  Yes,  it  was  you.  It  was  a  sentimental  thing 
to  do,  but  it  afforded  me  immense  pleasure. 
Love  lives  more  on  the  homage  it  pays  than 
that  which  it  receives.  Have  you  noticed 
that?" 

"  I  have  never  thought  about  it,"  said  Dolly 
distantly. 

"  I  thought  not,"  replied  Robin ;  "  because  it 
shows,  what  I  have  always  been  tolerably  certain 
of,  that  you  have  never  been  in  love.  However, 
to  resume."  ["  Like  a  lecture  on  Greek  Roots,  or 
something  equally  fusty,"  observes  Dolly  at  this 
point.]  "  The  time  came,  as  it  was  bound  to 
come,  when  I  realised  that  I  must  tell  you  I 
loved  you" 

"I  rather  like  the  way  he  always  said  'love'  straight 
out,"  comments  Dolly :  "  most  men  are  so  frightened  of  it. 
They  say  '  am  fond  of,'  or  '  care  for,'  or  something  feeble 
like  that.  All  except  the  curate  with  pink  eyes.  (You 
remember  him  ?  Dora  Claverton  took  him  afterwards  on 
the  rebound.)  He  said  '  esteem  highly,'  I  think." 


1 66  Raw  Material 

"  or  leave  this  house  altogether.  But 

before  doing  that  I  had  to  decide  two  things : 
firstly,  whether  I  was  good  enough  for  you,  and 
secondly,  if  not  now,  whether  I  ever  should  be." 

Dolly's  half-closed  eyes  opened  a  trifle  wider. 
This  was  certainly  a  methodically-minded  young 
man. 

"  It  was  difficult  to  decide  the  first  question 
in  practice,"  continued  Robin.  "  In  theory,  of 
course,  any  man  who  is  a  man — honest,  clean, 
and  kind  —  is  a  fitting  mate  for  any  woman. 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dolly. 

"  I  see,"  said  Robin  gently.  "  The  theoretical 
is  mainly  the  man's  point  of  view :  woman  looks 
straight  to  practical  results.  She  is  rather  in- 
clined to  take  the  virtues  I  have  mentioned 
for  granted,  or  do  without  them ;  and  she  founds 
her  opinion  of  a  man  almost  solely  upon  his  capa- 
city for  boring',  her  or  stimulating  her.  In  other 
words,  she  is  guided  by  her  instinct.  Isn't  she  ? " 

"  Is  she  ? "  said  Dolly,  determined  this  time 
to  maintain  her  attitude  of  indifference. 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Robin.  "  However,  know- 
ing how  impossible  it  is  for  one  sex  to  look  at 
a  matter  from  the  point  of  view  of  another,  I 
decided  to  stick  to  my  own  methods.  So  I 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it  167 

made  a  summary  of  my  points,  good  and  bad. 
They  are  these :  I  am  strong  and  healthy ; 
I  possess  an  appetite  for  hard  work ;  I  was 
born  with  brains ;  I  have  considerable  capacity 
for  organisation " 

"  Some  people  have  a  good  conceit  of  them- 
selves ! "  said  Dolly. 

"Every  one  should  have,"  replied  Robin  with 
conviction.  "And,"  he  added,  "most  of  us  have. 
/  have — you  have  !  " 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Dolly  indignantly. 

"But  a  man  may  have  a  good  conceit  of 
himself,"  Robin  continued  soothingly,  "  without 
being  what  the  world  calls  conceited.  Modesty 
consists  not  in  taking  a  low  estimate  of  one's 
own  worth,  but  in  refraining  from  the  expecta- 
tion that  the  world  will  take  a  high  one." 

Dolly  nodded  gravely. 

"I  see,"  she  said.  "I  didn't  know  you  meant 
that.  Yes,  there  is  something  in  what  you  say." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Robin.  "  It  is  very  help- 
ful to  me  to  get  this  courteous  hearing  from  you ; 
for  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  added  rather  ex- 
plosively, "  I  find  it  a  very,  very  great  effort 
to  speak  to  you  like  this  at  all.  You  see,  I  am 
talking  of  things  that  go  right  to  the  centre 
of  the  human  heart — things  that  a  man  never 


1 68  Raw  Material 

speaks  of  to  a  man,  and  only  once  to  a  woman. 
It  has  to  be  done,  but  it  is  hard,  hard ! " 

He  drew  a  long  breath,  in  a  manner  which 
made  the  sofa  tremble ;  and  Dolly  suddenly 
realised  the  height  and  depth  of  the  barrier 
of  reserve  and  pride  that  this  grave  and  un- 
demonstrative man  had  had  to  break  down 
before  he  could  offer  her  the  view  of  his  in- 
most soul  to  which  he  considered  that  she  was 
entitled.  She  felt  a  sudden  pang  of  awe, 
mingled  with  compassionate  sympathy.  She 
was  not  given  to  wearing  her  heart  on  her 
sleeve  herself. 

"  Well,"  continued  Robin,  evidently  relieved 
by  this  little  confession,  "  those  are  my  assets. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  have  no  money,  no  posi- 
tion— I  will  not  say  no  birth,  for  I  come  of 
good,  honest  stock — and  my  prospects  are  at 
present  in  the  clouds.  But  to  one  type  of 
wife  all  that  would  not  matter  a  scrap.  There 
are  two  types,  you  know — two  types  of  good 
wife,  that  is." 

"I  would  have  given  worlds,"  says  Dolly  here,  "just 
to  have  said  '  Oh  ! '  or  something ;  but  for  the  life  of 
me  I  couldn't  help  asking  what  the  two  types  were." 

"  The   first,"    said    Robin,    "  is    the    wife    who 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it          169 

loves  her  husband  because  she  is  proud  of  him, 
because  he  is  successful  and  powerful,  and  people 
admire  him ;  and  not  because  she  has  any  con- 
ception of  or  sympathy  with  the  qualities  which 
have  made  him  what  he  is.  To  such  a  one  the 
husband  must  come  with  his  reputation  ready 
made,  and  they  will  enjoy  it  together.  The 
other  type  loves  her  husband  because  she  sees 
through  him,  yet  believes  in  him  and  sym- 
pathises with  his  aims,  and  intends  to  make 
a  success  of  him.  And  she  usually  does." 

"  And  which  am  I  ? "  inquired  Dolly. 

"  The  latter,  undoubtedly — the  higher  type. 
And  therefore,  if  there  had  been  nothing  else 
in  the  way,  I  think  I  should  have  given  myself 
the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  But ' 

"He  turned  and  looked  at  me  here,"  writes  Dolly, 
and  said — 

" '  But  your  feminine  instinct  is  chafing  against  all 
this  laborious  weighing  of  pros  and  cons.  In  your  own 
mind  you  summed  up  the  situation  ten  minutes  ago. 
I  am — "impossible."  Isn't  that  it?' 

"My  dear,  I  nearly  screamed,  for  of  course  that  is 
just  what  was  in  my  mind.  But  I  couldn't  very  well 
say  so,  so  I  just  sat  there  and  looked  rather  idiotic 
and  he  went  on — 

" '  In  other  words,  I  am  not  quite  a  gentleman.' 

"  Then  I  said  quite  suddenly — 


170  Raw  Material 

" '  Robin,  whatever  else  you  may  be,  you  are  a 
gentleman.' 

"He  got  quite  pink.  'Thank  you/  he  said.  'But 
for  all  that,  I  am  too  rough  a  suitor  for  such  a  polished 
little  aristocrat  as  yourself.'  (Rather  cheek,  that !  After 
all,  Dilly,  we're  five  feet  seven.)  '  We  live  in  an  artificial 
sort  of  world ;  and  a  man,  in  order  not  to  jar  on  those 
around  him,  requires  certain  social  accomplishments.  I 
have  few — at  present.  You  have  taught  me  a  great  deal, 
but  I  should  still  rather  discredit  you  as  a  husband.  My 
want  of  polish  would  'affront'  you,  as  we  say  in  Scot- 
land. I  am  a  better  beater  than  shot ;  I  can  break  a 
horse  better  than  I  can  ride  it;  and  I  dance  a  reel 
better  than  I  waltz.  I  have  strength,  but  no  grace; 
ability,  but  no  distinction.  Of  course,  if  you  and  I 
really  loved  each  other — you  being  of  Type  Two — none 
of  these  things  would  matter.  But  for  all  that,  it  would 
hurt  you  to  see  people  smiling  at  your  husband's  little 
gaucheries,  wouldn't  it?' 

"  I  didn't  answer,  and  he  got  up  and  went  and  leaned 
against  the  mantelpiece. 

" '  Listen,'  he  said, '  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  de- 
cided to  do.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  not  to  have  a  try 
for  you — badly  though  I  want  it — till  I  consider  that  I 
have  reached  your  standard.  I  fixed  that  standard  my- 
self, so  it  is  a  very,  very  high  one,  I  have  been  schooling 
myself  and  shaping  myself  to  attain  it  ever  since  I  met 
you.  But  I  have  not  quite  reached  it  yet,  and  therefore 
I  have  nothing  to  ask  of  you  now.' " 

"Then  what  on  earth   have  you  brought  me 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it          171 

here  for  ? "  inquired  Dolly,  feeling  vaguely  ag- 
grieved. 

Robin  surveyed  her  rather  wistfully,  and  then 
smiled  in  a  disarming  fashion. 

"  That  was  weakness,"  he  said,  "  sheer  weak- 
ness. But  I  think  it  was  pardonable.  I  saw, 
now  that  your  sister  was  married,  that  the  days 
of  your  old  irresponsible  flirtations  were  over, 
and  that  you  would  henceforth  regard  proposals 
of  marriage  as  much  more  serious  things  than 
hitherto.  Consequently  you  might  marry  any 
day,  without  ever  knowing  that  a  little  later 
on  you  would  have  received  an  offer  from  me. 
I  have  brought  you  here,  then,  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  a  prospective  candidate,  but  that  I  do  not 
feel  qualified  to  put  down  my  name  at  present. 
Ideally  speaking,  I  ought  to  have  kept  silence 
until  the  moment  when  I  considered  that  I  was 
ready  for  you;  but — well,  there  are  limits  to 
self-repression,  and  I  have  allowed  myself  this 
one  little  outbreak.  All  I  ask,  then,  is  that  in 
considering  other  offers  you  will  bear  some- 
where in  the  back  of  your  mind  the  remem- 
brance that  you  will,  if  you  desire  it,  one 
day  have  the  refusal  of  me.  I  admit  that 
the  possibility  of  your  being  influenced  by 


172  Raw  Material 

the  recollection  is  very  remote,  but  I  am  going 
to  leave  nothing  undone  that  can  be  done  to 
get  you." 

"  By  this  time,"  Dolly  continues  elegantly,  "  I  was  get- 
ting considerably  flummoxed.  The  whole  business  was 
very  absurd  and  uncomfortable,  but  I  couldn't  help  feel- 
ing rather  complimented  at  the  way  he  evidently  regarded 
me — as  a  sort  of  little  tin  goddess  on  a  pedestal  out  of 
reach,  being  asked  to  be  so  good  as  to  stand  still  a 
moment  while  Kobin  went  to  hunt  for  the  steps — and  I 
also  felt  a  little  bit  afraid  of  him.  He  was  so  quiet  and 
determined  over  it  all.  He  seemed  to  have  it  all  mapped 
out  in  a  kind  of  time-table  inside  him.  However,  I 
pulled  myself  together  and  decided  to  contribute  my 
share  to  the  conversation.  I  hadn't  had  much  of  a  look 
in,  so  far. 

"So  I  settled  down  to  talk  to  him  like  a  mother.  I 
began  by  saying  that  I  was  very  much  obliged  and 
honoured,  and  all  that,  but  that  he  had  better  put  the 
idea  out  of  his  head  once  and  for  all.  I  liked  him  very 
much,  and  had  always  regarded  him  as  a  great  friend,  quite 
one  of  the  family — you  know  the  sort  of  stuff — but 

"  It  was  no  good.  He  held  up  his  hand  like  a  police- 
man at  a  crossing,  and  said — 

"'Please  say  nothing.  I  have  asked  you  no  question 
of  any  kind,  so  no  answer  is  required.  All  that  I  have 
said  to-night  has  been  in  the  nature  of  an  intimation.' 
(0-h !  how  like  church !) 

"  Then  he  sat  down  on  the  sofa  beside  me,  very  gently, 
and  said — 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it  173 

" '  The  intimation  in  brief  is  this.  I  love  you ;  and 
some  day,  please  God,  I  shall  ask  you  to  marry  me. 
But  not  until  I  feel  that  you  would  lose  nothing  by 
doing  so.' 

"  We  both  sat  very  still  for  a  few  minutes  after  that. 
I  fancy  we  were  both  doing  a  little  thinking.  My  chief 
reflection  was  that  Kobin  had  had  rather  the  better  of  the 
interview,  because  he  had  made  me  listen  to  him  when 
I  was  determined  not  to.  Suddenly  Eobin  said — 

"'Now  that  the  business  part  of  this  conversation  is 
over,  I  am  going  to  allow  myself  a  luxury.  I  have  been 
talking  most  of  the  time  about  myself.  For  just  five 
minutes  I  shall  talk  about  you.  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
think  of  you.' 

"  He  looked  at  his  watch  and  began.  Dilly,  I  had  no 
idea  I  had  so  many  good  points !  He  put  them  better 
than  any  man  has  ever  done  before.  But  then  the  other 
men  were  always  so  jumbled  up,  and  this  creature  was  as 
cool  and  collected  as  if  he  were  reading  a  Stores  Catalogue. 

"  But  he  let  himself  go  at  last.  It  was  my  fault,  though. 
I  was  in  rather  a  twitter  by  this  time,  for  although  the 
whole  thing  was  simply  absurd — of  course  one  couldn't 
marry  a  wild  untamed  creature  like  that,  could  one,  Dilly  ? 
— I  couldn't  help  seeing  what  a  man  he  was,  and  feeling 
sorry  that  things  couldn't  have  been  a  bit  different,  if 
only  for  his  sake.  So  I  gave  him  my  hand"  [I  can 
see  her  do  it]  "and  said:  'Poor  old  Kobin !' 

"He  seized  it — my  child,  it  has  waggled  like  a  blanc- 
mange ever  since ! — and  kissed  it.  Then,  quite  suddenly, 
he  broke  out  into  a  sort  of  rhapsody — like  '  The  Song  of 
Solomon'  only  nicer — with  his  head  bowed  over  my  hands. 
(He  had  got  hold  of  the  other  one  too,  by  this  time.)  I 


174  Raw  Material 

felt  perfectly  helpless,  so  I  let  him  run  on.  I  shan't  tell 
you  what  he  said,  dear,  because  it  wouldn't  be  cricket. 
Anyhow,  a  perfectly  idiotic  tear  suddenly  rolled  down  my 
nose — after  all,  I  had  had  a  fearfully  long  day — and  I 
tried  to  pull  my  hands  away.  Eobin  let  them  go  at  once. 

" '  You  are  right.  The  time  for  such  things  is  not  yet,' 
he  said,  in  a  queer  Biblical  sort  of  way.  '  It  was  a  sudden 
weakness  on  my  part.  I  had  not  meant  it,  you  may  be 
sure.' 

"The  only  thing  I  am  sure  about,"  I  said,  feeling 
thoroughly  vexed  about  the  tear,  "is  that  we  have  been 
in  this  room  nearly  an  hour.  Please  unlock  the  door. 

"  Then  we  went  downstairs." 

After  that  follow  one  or  two  postscripts  of  a 
reflective  nature,  the  general  trend  of  which 
seems  to  indicate  that  Eobin  is  rather  a  dear, 
but  quite  impossible. 

"A  flippant  and  unfeeling  letter,"  you  say, 
sir?  Perhaps.  But  there  is  often  no  reserve 
so  deep  or  so  delicate  as  that  which  is  veiled 
by  a  frivolous  exterior  and  a  mocking  attitude 
towards  sentiment  in  general.  Some  sensitive 
people  are  so  afraid  of  having  their  hearts 
dragged  to  light  that,  to  escape  inquisition,  they 
pretend  they  do  not  possess  any.  Moreover,  I 
know  Dolly  well  enough  to  be  certain  that  she 
was  not  quite  so  brutally  unkind  to  Robin 


Robin's  Way  of  doing  it          175 

during    this    interview    as    she   would    have   us 
believe. 

"  The  blundering  creature  !  He  went  about 
it  in  quite  the  wrong  way,"  you  say,  madam? 
Very  likely.  But  if  a  woman  only  took  a  man 
when  he  went  about  it  in  exactly  the  right 
way,  how  very  few  marriages  there  would  be  ! 


BOOK   TWO. 

THE   FINISHED   ARTICLE. 


M 


CHAPTER    ELEVEN. 

A    MISFIRE. 
I. 

THERE  is  an  undefinable  character  and  dis- 
tinctiveness  about  Sunday  morning  which  is 
not  possessed  by  any  other  day  of  the  week. 

Not  that  the  remaining  six  are  lacking  in 
individuality.  Monday  is  a  depressed  and 
reluctant  individual ;  Tuesday  is  a  full-blooded 
and  energetic  citizen ;  Wednesday  a  cheerful 
and  contented  gentleman  who  does  not  intend 
to  overwork  himself  to-day, — this  is  probably 
due  to  the  fact  that  we  used  to  have  a  half- 
holiday  on  Wednesdays  at  school ;  and  when 
I  got  into  Parliament  I  found  that  the  same 
rule  held  there ;  Thursday  I  regard  as  one 
who  ploughs  steadily  on  his  way,  lacking 
enthusiasm  but  comfortably  conscious  of  a 
second  wind ;  Friday  is  a  debilitated  but 


i8o  The  Finished  Article 

hopeful  toiler,  whose  sole  joy  in  his  work 
lies  in  anticipating  its  speedy  conclusion ; 
and  Saturday  is  a  radiant  fellow  with  a  straw 
hat  and  a  week-end  bag. 

Still,  one  week-day  is  very  like  another 
at  waking  time.  My  mental  vision,  never 
pellucid,  is  hi  its  most  opaque  condition  in 
the  early  grey  of  the  morning ;  and  at  Oxford, 
I  remember,  I  found  it  necessary  to  instruct 
my  scout  to  rouse  me  from  slumber  in  some 
such  fashion  as  this  :  "  Eight  o'clock  on 
Thursday  mornin',  sir ! "  (as  if  I  had  slept 
since  Monday  at  least),  or  " ' Alf  -  past  nine, 
slight  rain,  and  a  Toosday,  sir ! " 

However,  no  one  was  ever  yet  needed  to 
inform  me  that  it  was  Sunday  morning.  This 
is  perhaps  natural  enough  in  town,  where  the 
silence  of  the  streets  and  the  sound  of  bells 
proclaim  the  day ;  but  why  the  same  phen- 
omenon should  occur  in  the  middle  of  a  High- 
land moor,  where  every  day  is  one  glorious 
open-air  Sabbath,  passes  my  comprehension. 

I  discussed  the  problem  after  breakfast  as 
I  sat  and  smoked  my  pipe  in  the  heathery 
garden  of  Strathmyrtle,  a  shooting  -  lodge  at 
which  we  were  being  hospitably  entertained 
by  Kitty's  uncle,  Sir  John  Rubislaw,  a  retired 


A  Misfire  181 

Admiral  of  the  Fleet,  whose  forty  years'  official 
connection  with  Britannia's  realm  betrayed 
itself  in  a  nautical  roll,  syncopated  by  gout, 
and  what  I  may  describe  as  a  hurricane-deck 
voice.  My  three  companions  in  the  debate 
were  my  host,  Master  Gerald,  and  another 
guest  in  the  house,  one  Dermott,  an  officer 
in  a  Highland  regiment. 

The  Admiral  ascribed  my  Sabbath  intuition 
to  the  working  of  some  inward  and  automatic 
monitor ;  while  Dermott,  among  whose  many 
sterling  qualities  delicate  fancy  was  not  in- 
cluded, put  it  down  to  the  smell  of  some 
special  dish  indigenous  to  Sunday  breakfast. 
My  brother-in-law's  contribution  to  the  debate 
was  an  unseemly  and  irreverent  parallel  between 
Saturday  night  potations  and  Sunday  morning 
"heads." 

To  us  entered  Dolly  and  Phillis. 

Our  hostess,  together  with  Kitty  and  the 
other  girl  of  the  party  —  an  American  young 
lady  of  considerable  personal  attractions — had 
driven  off  to  church  in  what  is  locally  called 
a  "  machine."  The  duties  of  escort  had  been 
voluntarily  undertaken  by  an  undergraduate 
named  Standish,  who  was  the  latest  recruit 
to  the  American  young  lady's  army  of  wor- 


1 82  The  Finished  Article 

shippers.  The  rest  of  us  had  stayed  at  home 
— the  Admiral  because  he  not  infrequently 
did  so ;  I  because  I  was  expecting  Robin  back 
by  the  "  machine "  (which  was  to  pick  him  up 
at  a  wayside  station,  where  he  had  been  sitting 
on  his  portmanteau  ever  since  six  o'clock  that 
morning,  having  been  dropped  there  by  the 
night  mail  from  London),  and  was  anticipating 
two  or  three  hours'  solid  work  with  him ; 
Gerald  because  he  had  succeeded  in  evading 
his  eldest  sister's  eye  during  the  search  for 
church  recruits ;  Dolly  to  look  after  Phillis ; 
and  Captain  Dermott  for  reasons  not  uncon- 
nected with  Dolly. 

It  was  Phillis's  birthday,  but  out  of  consider- 
ation for  Scottish  views  on  Sabbath  observance 
the  festivities  in  connection  with  that  anni- 
versary had  been  postponed  until  the  morrow. 
However,  this  did  not  prevent  my  daughter 
from  demanding  (and  obtaining)  various  special 
privileges  of  an  unofficial  character  this  hot 
Sunday  morning.  Consequently  a  spiritually 
willing  but  carnally  incompetent  band,  consist- 
ing of  one  jovial  but  arthritic  baronet,  one 
docile  but  self-conscious  warrior,  one  indulgent 
but  overheated  parent,  and  Dolly  —  Gerald 
stood  scornfully  aloof —  were  compelled  to 


A  Misfire  183 

devote  the  next  two  hours  to  a  series  of 
games,  stage-plays,  and  allegories  of  an  innocu- 
ous but  exhausting  description. 

We  began  by  joining  hands  and  walking 
in  a  circle,  solemnly  chanting  a  ditty  of  the 
"I-saw-a-ship-a-sailing"  variety,  which  cul- 
minated in  the  following  verse — 

"  Then  three  times  round  went  that  gallant  ship, 

Then  three  times  round  went  she  ; 
Then  three  times  round  went  that  gallant  ship — 

(Here  we  were  commanded  by  the  mistress 
of  the  revels,  in  a  hoarse  and  hurried  stage 
whisper,  to  be  ready  to  fall  down) 

— And  sank  to  the  bottom — of — the — sea  ! " 

"  Now  all  fall  down  !  "  screamed  Phillis. 

We  did  so,  and  lay  on  the  grass  in  serried 
heaps.  The  remark  which  the  Admiral  made 
when  my  left  elbow  descended  upon  his  gouti- 
est  foot  was  fortunately  obscured  by  the  fact 
that  his  face  was  inside  his  hat  at  the  moment. 

After  that  we  performed  the  "  most  lament- 
able comedy"  of  "The  Three  Bears."  Phillis 
assigned  the  parts,  reserving  for  herself  the 
role  of  Curly  Locks  and  Stage  Manager.  Dolly 
was  cast  for  Mother  Bear,  Captain  Dermott 
for  Father  Bear,  and  I  for  Baby  Bear.  The 


184  The  Finished  Article 

Admiral,  at  his  own  urgent  request,  was  allotted 
the  comparatively  unimportant  part  of  Baby 
Bear's  bed,  and  sat  nursing  his  foot  and  observ- 
ing with  keen  relish  the  preparations  of  the 
Bear  family  for  their  morning  walk.  We  set 
out  at  last,  all  three  on  our  hands  and  knees, 
Dolly  and  Dermott  crawling  amicably  side  by 
side,  heroically  regardless  of  white  skirt  and 
Sunday  sporran ;  I,  as  befitted  my  youth  and 
station,  bringing  up  the  rear. 

The  Bears  having  vacated  their  domicile  (the 
grass  plot),  Curly  Locks,  after  much  furtive 
peeping  round  bushes,  entered  and  advanced 
to  the  rustic  table,  where  she  proceeded  to 
test  the  contents  of  the  various  porridge-bowls 
(represented  by  two  tobacco  -  pouches  and  an 
ash-tray  respectively). 

"  Too  hot ! "  she  said,  after  sampling  the 
first  bowl. 

"  Too  cold ! "   she  continued,  trying  the  next. 

"  A-a-ah ! "  she  cried,  coming  to  the  third ; 
and  swallowed  its  contents  (some  heather-tops) 
with  every  appearance  of  enjoyment. 

After  that  came  the  inspection  of  the  beds 
(two  sofa-cushions  and  the  Admiral),  and  finally 
Curly  Locks  retired  to  rest  on  her  grand- 
uncle's  knee. 


A  Misfire  185 

Then  the  Three  Bears  came  painfully  back 
from  the  shrubbery,  and  Curly  Locks'  acts  of 
spoliation  were  revealed  one  by  one.  My 
assumption  of  grief  on  the  discovery  of  my 
empty  porridge-bowl  was  so  realistic  that  the 
Stage  Manager  sat  up  in  bed  and  commended 
me  for  it.  Finally  we  went  the  round  of  the 
furniture ;  Curly  Locks  was  duly  discovered ; 
and  I  was  engaged  in  a  life-and-death  struggle 
for  her  shrieking  person  with  the  bed  itself, 
when  there  was  a  crunching  of  gravel,  and  the 
"  machine "  drove  up  with  Robin  inside  it. 

After  my  secretary  had  greeted  those  of  us 
whom  he  knew,  and  been  interrupted  in  the 
middle  of  a  rapturous  embrace  from  Phillis  to 
be  introduced  to  those  whom  he  did  not,  I 
took  him  off  indoors  for  a  meal,  through  the 
breakfast -room  window,  and  opened  the  port- 
folio of  correspondence  which  he  had  brought 
me  from  London. 

"  Hallo !  Here  is  a  letter  for  Dermott,"  I 
said.  "I'll  take  it  to  him." 

I  stepped  through  the  window  and  handed 
the  letter  to  Dermott,  who  was  falling  into 
line  for  a  fresh  game  just  outside. 

"  That  envelope  looks  terribly  official,"  said 
Dolly.  "  What  does  it  all  mean  ? " 


1 86  The  Finished  Article 

"I  expect  it  means  Aldershot,"  said  Dermott 
ruefully.  "  However,  I  shan't  open  it  till  lunch- 
time."  And  he  stuffed  the  offending  epistle  into 
his  pocket,  and  returned  to  the  game  in  hand 
with  a  zest  and  abandon  that  betrayed  ulterior 
motives  in  every  antic. 

We  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  Captain  Dermott 
that  summer.  Somehow  he  had  been  in  nearly 
every  house  we  had  visited ;  and  his  laborious 
expressions  of  pleased  surprise  at  meeting  us 
there  had  now  given  way  to  specious  and  trans- 
parent explanations  of  his  own  presence.  The 
experts  at  countless  tea-tables  and  shooting- 
lunches  were  practically  unanimous  in  the 
opinion  that  Dolly  could  land  her  fish  when 
she  chose  now ;  and  as  the  fish  was  a  good 
fellow,  and  could  offer  her  three  thousand  a-year 
and  the  reflected  glory  of  a  D.S.O.,  it  was  gen- 
erally conceded  that  my  youngest  sister-in-law 
—have  I  ever  mentioned  that  Dolly  was  the 
junior  Twin? — was  about  to  do  extremely  well 
for  herself. 

I  sat  by  Robin  as  he  consumed  his  breakfast, 
and  waded  through  my  correspondence.  There 
was  a  good  deal  to  sign  and  a  good  deal  to 
digest,  and  a  good  deal  that  was  of  no  import- 
ance whatsoever.  But  the  clou  of  the  whole 


A  Misfire  187 

budget  was  contained  in  a  private  letter  from 
my  Chief.  I  read  it. 

"My  word,  Kobin!"  I  said.  " There's  to  be 
a  Dissolution  in  January." 

There  was  no  answer,  and  I  looked  up. 

Robin  was  not  listening.  His  attention  had 
wandered  to  the  game  in  progress  on  the  lawn. 
This  was  one  of  Phillis'  most  cherished  pastimes, 
and  was  called  "  Beckoning."  The  players,  ex- 
cept the  person  who  for  the  time  being  filled 
the  role  of  "  It,"  stood  patiently  in  a  row, 
until  "  It,"  after  mature  consideration,  beckoned 
invitingly  to  one  of  them  to  approach.  This 
invitation  might  or  might  not  be  a  genuine 
one,  for  sometimes  the  player  on  responding 
was  received  by  the  beckoner  with  hisses  and 
other  symptoms  of  distaste,  and  fell  back 
ignominiously  on  the  main  body.  But  if  you 
were  the  real  object  of  the  beckoner's  affections, 
you  were  greeted  with  embraces  and  a  cry  of 
"I  choose  you!"  and  succeeded  to  the  proud 
post  of  "  It." 

It  was  a  simple  but  embarrassing  game,  call- 
ing for  the  exercise  of  considerable  tact  when 
played  by  adults.  At  the  present  moment 
Phillis  was  becko  :3r,  while  Dolly,  Dermott,  and 
the  Admiral  stoou  meekly  in  line  awaiting  selec- 


1 88  The  Finished  Article 

tlon.  Dolly  and  the  Admiral  were  each  called 
without  being  chosen,  and  Phillis's  final  selection 
proved  to  be  Dermott,  who,  having  received  an 
enthusiastic  salute  from  the  retiring  president, 
now  stood  sheepishly  on  one  leg  surveying  the 
expectant  trio  before  him. 

He  began  by  beckoning  to  his  host ;  and, 
having  relieved  that  gentleman's  apprehensions 
by  sibilant  noises,  waggled  a  nervous  finger  at 
Dolly.  Dolly  advanced  obediently. 

"  Choose  her,  if  you  like,"  said  Phillis  mag- 
nanimously. 

Dermott's  martial  eye  kindled,  but  he  made 
no  sign,  and  the  game  faltered  in  its  stride  for 
a  moment. 

" Say,"  interpolated  the  prompter,  '"I  choose 
you  ! '  and  then  k " 

But  Dermott,  hastily  emitting  a  hiss  which 
must  have  cost  him  a  heartrending  effort,  rele- 
gated the  greatly  relieved  Dolly  to  the  ranks, 
and  smoothed  over  the  situation  by  "choosing" 
my  daughter,  to  that  young  person's  undisguised 
gratification. 

It  was  at  this  phase  in  the  proceedings  that 
Robin's  attention  began  to  wander  from  the 
affairs  of  State,  and  I  had  to  repeat  my  news 
of  the  impending  Dissolution  to  him  twice  be- 


A  Misfire  189 

fore  he  grasped  its  full  significance.  Even  then 
he  displayed  about  one-tenth  of  the  excitement 
I  should  have  expected  of  him ;  and  finally  he 
admitted  that  he  was  somewhat  derange  after 
his  night  journey,  and  suggested  a  postponement 
of  business  in  favour  of  a  little  recreation  on 
the  lawn. 

We  accordingly  added  ourselves  to  the  party, 
just  in  time  to  join  the  cast  of  Phillis'  next  pro- 
duction. This  was  an  ambitious  but  complicated 
drama  of  an  allegorical  type,  in  which  Robin 
appeared — not  for  the  first  time,  evidently — 
as  a  boy  called  Henry,  and  Phillis  doubled  the 
parts  of  Henry's  mother  and  a  fairy.  These 
two  roles  absorbed  practically  the  whole  of 
what  is  professionally  known  as  "  the  fat "  of 
the  piece,  and  the  other  members  of  the  com- 
pany were  relegated — to  their  ill-disguised  re- 
lief— to  parts  of  purely  nominal  importance. 

The  curtain  rose  (if  I  may  use  the  expression) 
upon  Henry's  humble  home,  where  Henry  was 
discovered  partaking  of  breakfast  (fir-cones).  He 
complained  bitterly  to  his  mother  of  the  hard- 
ship of  (a)  early  rising,  (6)  going  to  school,  and 
(c)  enduring  chastisement  when  he  got  there. 
The  next  scene  revealed  him  in  class,  where 
the  schoolmaster  (Dolly,  assiduously  prompted 


190  The  Finished  Article 

by  Phillis)  asked  him  a  series  of  questions, 
which  he  answered  so  incorrectly  as  to  incur 
the  extreme  penalty  of  "the  muckle  tawse." 
(Here  what  textual  critics  term  "  internal  evi- 
dence of  a  later  hand "  peeped  out  unmistak- 
ably.) The  punishment  having  been  duly  in- 
flicted by  Dolly  with  a  rug-strap,  Henry  retired, 
suffused  with  tears,  to  "a  mountain-top,"  where 
he  gave  vent  to  a  series  of  bitter  reflections 
on  the  hardness  of  his  lot  and  the  hollowness 
of  life  in  general. 

He  must  have  "  gagged "  unduly  here,  for 
presently  he  was  cut  short  by  a  stern  admoni- 
tion to  "  wish  for  a  fairy." 

"  I  wish  for  a  fairy,"  said  Henry  dutifully. 

Phillis,  given  her  cue  at  last,  pirouetted 
before  him  with  outstretched  skirts. 

"  Go  on  ! "  she  whispered  excitedly.  "  Say,  '  I 
wish  that  all  Pain  was  Pleasure  and  all  Pleasure 
Pain.'" 

"  Oh,  sorry  ! "  said  Henry.  "  I  wish  that  all 
Pain  was  Pleasure  and  Pleasure  Pain." 

"  Have  then  thy  wish  ! "  announced  the  fairy 
solemnly,  and  fluttered  away. 

The  drama  thereafter  pursued  a  remorselessly 
logical  and  improving  course.  Having  got  his 


A  Misfire  191 

wish,  the  luckless  Henry  found  that  his  only 
moments  of  pleasure  were  those  during  which 
he  was  enduring  the  tawse,  getting  out  of  bed 
on  a  cold  morning,  or  doing  something  equally 
unpleasant.  On  the  other  hand,  his  comfortable 
bed  had  become  so  painful  that  he  could  only 
obtain  rest  by  filling  it  with  stones ;  and  his 
matutinal  porridge  was  only  made  palatable  by 
the  addition  of  a  handful  of  gravel. 

After  a  fruitless  interview  with  the  family 
physician  (Captain  Dermott),  in  which  the 
patient's  mother  set  forth  her  offspring's 
symptoms  with  embarrassing  frankness,  Henry 
was  compelled,  as  a  last  resort,  to  pay  one 
more  visit  to  the  mountain -top.  The  indul- 
gent fairy  kindly  agreed  to  put  things  right, 
but  only  under  penalty  of  an  improving  homily 
on  contentment  with  one's  lot  and  the  fatuity 
of  asking  for  what  you  do  not  really  want. 
This  was  only  half  finished  when  the  party 
returned  from  church,  and  Phillis,  realising  that 
the  absolute  despotism  of  the  last  few  hours 
would  now  be  watered  down  by  an  unsenti- 
mental mother  into  a  limited  monarchy  at  the 
best,  retired  within  her  shell  and  declared  the 
revels  at  an  end. 


192  The  Finished  Article 


II. 


"What  was  the  church  like?"  I  inquired  at 
lunch. 

"I  have  witnessed  more  snappy  entertain- 
ments," remarked  Miss  Buncle,  the  American 
girl,  through  her  pretty  nose.  "  Still,  we  smiled 
some.  Mr  Standish  here  got  quite  delirious 
when  the  minister  prayed  for  'the  adjacent 
country  of  England,  which,  as  Thou  knowest, 
O  Lord,  lies  some  twa  hundred  miles  to  the 
sooth  of  us,' — I'm  sorry  I  can't  talk  Scotch, 
Mr  Fordyce, — as  if  he  was  afraid  that  Provi- 
dence might  mail  the  blessing  to  the  wrong 
address  and  Iceland  would  get  it." 

Kitty  broke  in  upon  Miss  Buncle's  reminis- 
cences. 

"  Who  do  you  think  we  saw  in  church  ? " 
she  said.  "  I  nearly  forgot  to  tell  you.  Your 
uncle,  Robin — Sir  James  Fordyce  ! " 

Robin  nodded  his  head  in  a  confirmatory  way. 

"  He  is  often  up  here  at  this  time  of  year," 
he  said. 

"  He  has  friends  here,  perhaps  ? "  said  I. 

"Oh  yes  ;  he  has  friends." 

I  could    tell  from  Robin's  voice  that  he  was 


A  Misfire  193 

nursing  some  immense  joke,  but  he  betrayed  no 
inclination  to  share  it  with  us.  Kitty  went  on. 

"  He  was  sitting  in  a  pew  with  some  farmery- 
looking  people.  There  was  a  patriarchal  old  man, 
very  stately  and  imposing,  rather  like — like — — " 

"  Moses  ? "  I  suggested. 

"  No.     I  don't  think  Moses  was  like  that." 

I  had  got  as  far  as  '  Aar ' — when  Lady  Rubislaw 
said — 

"  Elijah  ?  " 

"  That's  it,"  replied  Kitty.  "Just  like  Elijah." 
(All  things  considered,  I  cannot  imagine  why 
Moses  would  not  have  done  as  well.)  "Then 
beside  him  was  a  perfectly  dear  old  lady. 
Not  so  very  old  either ;  say  sixty.  Of  course 
they  may  not  have  belonged  to  Sir  James  at 
all :  he  may  just  have  been  put  in  their  pew. 
Still,  they  kept  handing  him  Bibles,  and  looking 
up  places  for  him  at  singing  time." 

"  That  means  nothing,"  said  I.  "  It's  the 
merest  courtesy  here." 

"  True,"  said  our  hostess.  "  I  was  having  a 
most  lovely  little  doze  during  the  Second  Lesson, 
or  whatever  they  call  it,  when  a  most  officious 
young  woman  three  or  four  pews  away  took  up 
an  enormous  Bible,  found  the  place,  squeaked 
down  the  aisle,  and  thrust  it  under  my  nose. 

N 


194  The  Finished  Article 

I  had  to  hold  it  up  for  fifty-seven  verses,"  she 
concluded  pathetically. 

"  Did  you  go  and  speak  to  Sir  James  after  the 
service  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  No.  That  was  this  child's  fault,"  said  Kitty, 
indicating  Miss  Buncle. 

"How?" 

"Well,  there  was  a  rather  gorgeous -looking 
chieftain  sort  of  person  sitting  in  a  front  pew, 
and  I  saw  Maimie  twisting  her  head  all  during 
the  service  to  look  at  him." 

"Yes,"  admitted  the  culprit  frankly.  "Put 
me  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  kilt,  and  I'm  a 
common  rubberneck  straight  away,  Mr  Ingle- 
thwaite.  I'm  just  mad  to  know  all  those  cun- 
ning tartans  by  heart." 

"  The  moment  the  service  was  over,"  continued 
my  wife  severely,  "  I  saw  her  edging  through  the 
crowd  hi  the  churchyard  towards  the  chieftain. 
For  a  moment  I  thought  she  was  going  to  ask 
him  his  name." 

"  I  wasn't ! "  declared  Miss  Buncle  indignantly. 

"No,  you  did  worse.  She  got  close  to  the 
unfortunate  man,"  continued  my  wife  to  us,  "  and 
suddenly  I  noticed  that  she  had  in  her  hand  one 
of  those  little  books  you  buy  at  railway  book- 
stalls in  the  Highlands,  with  patterns  of  all  the 


A  Misfire  195 

tartans  in  them  and  the  name  of  the  clan  under- 
neath. By  the  time  I  got  up  to  her  she  had 
found  the  right  tartan  in  the  book,  and  was 
matching  it  up  against  the  back  of  the  poor 
unconscious  creature's  kilt.  Then  she  turned 
to  me  in  a  triumphant  sort  of  way  and  simply 
bellowed—1  M'Farlane  1 '  " 

"We  shall  probably  be  hauled  up  before  the 
Kirk-session,"  said  the  Admiral.  "  But  I  wonder 
who  Sir  James  Fordyce's  friends  can  be.  I  know 
most  of  the  people  who  have  shootings  about 
here,  but  none  of  them  are  friends  of  his  that 
I  can  think  of.  We  must  get  him  to  come 
and  shoot  here  one  day.  Rather  late  for  to- 
morrow's drive,  but  there  will  be  another  on 
Thursday.  I  wonder  who  his  host  is,  though  ?  " 

"  I  might  help  you,"  said  Robin.  "  An  old 
man,  you  said,  with  his  wife  ? " 

«  Yes— oldish,"  said  Kitty. 

"  Was  there  a  son  with  them  ?  " 

"  N-no." 

"  No  ?  Well,  he  would  be  away  at  the  lamb- 
sales,  perhaps,"  said  Robin  reflectively.  "  Was 
there  a  daughter  ? " 

"Now  you  mention  it,"  said  Kitty,  "there 
was.  A  nice,  bonny -looking  girl.  Twenty -four, 
I  should  say." 


196  The  Finished  Article 

"  Twenty-three,"  said  Robin. 

We  all  turned  on  him. 

"  Now  then,  what  is  all  the  mystery  ?  Out 
with  it !  Who  is  the  girl— eh  ? " 

"  She  would  be  my  sister,"  said  Robin  calmly. 
"  And  the  others  were  my  father  and  mother." 

There  was  a  little  gasp  of  surprise  all  round 
the  table.  Robin  went  on — 

"  My  home  is  just  seven  miles  from  here. 
This  is  the  first  time  I  have  got  near  my  folk 
for  six  years.  To-morrow  I  mean  to  go  and 
see  them.  And  they  would  like  fine,  I  know," 
he  added  a  little  shyly,  "  if  some  of  you  would 
come  with  me." 

"  I'll  come,"  said  Kitty  promptly.  "  I  should 
love  to  meet  your  mother,  Robin." 

"  May  /  come,  Uncle  Robin  ? "  piped  Phillis. 
"  For  a  birfday  treat,"  she  added,  in  extenuation. 

Applications  for  an  invitation  rained  in.  Apart 
from  a  desire  to  please  a  man  whom  we  all 
respected — and  our  ready  offers  undoubtedly  did 
please  him — I  think  we  were  all  a  little  curious 
to  view  the  mould  which  had  turned  Robin  out. 

"You  can't  all  go,"  said  the  Admiral  at  last. 
"There's  the  grouse-drive  to-morrow,  and  eight 
butts  to  fill ;  not  to  mention  the  need  of  female 
society  at  lunch." 


A  Misfire  197 

Finally  it  was  arranged  that  Robin  should  take 
Kitty  and  Phillis  over  on  a  sort  of  preliminary 
call,  and  they  could  arrange  for  the  establish- 
ment of  more  substantial  relations. 

But  that  evening,  as  the  ladies  were  having 
their  candles  lit  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  I 
heard  Robin  say  to  Dolly — 

"Will  you  come  with  us  to-morrow?" 

Dolly  seemed  to  consider,  and  was  about  to 
reply,  when  Dermott,  who  never  seemed  very 
far  away  now,  cut  in. 

"  Too  late,  Fordyce !  Miss  Rubislaw  has 
promised  to  come  and  load  for  me  in  my  butt 
to-morrow  afternoon." 

"No,  I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  managed  this 
time,  Robin,"  said  Dolly.  "But  I  am  coming 
with  you  later  in  the  week,  if  you'll  take  me." 

Robin  said  nothing. 

Now  Dolly,  I  knew,  did  not  approve  of  the 
inclusion  of  females  in  the  business  part  of  a 
day's  shooting ;  and  she  regarded  Miss  Buncle 
and  her  twenty -eight  bore  with  pious  horror. 
The  fact  that  she  had  consented  to  come  and 
hold  Dermott's  second  gun  to-morrow  seemed 
to  indicate  that  that  gallant  sportsman  had 
accomplished  a  feat  which  had  already  proved 
too  much  for  several  highly  deserving  young 


198  The  Finished  Article 

men — I  was  not  quite  sure  that  Robin  was  not 
one  of  them ;  and  there  seemed  to  be  every 
reason  to  anticipate  (especially  since  he  was 
due  to  start  for  Aldershot  to-morrow  night) 
that  when  the  Captain  returned  from  the  chase 
to-morrow  afternoon,  his  bag  would  include  one 
head  of  game  of  an  interesting  and  unusual 
variety. 


IIL 


At  ten  o'clock  next  morning  we  met  the 
keepers,  dogs,  and  beaters  not  far  from  the 
first  line  of  butts  on  the  moor.  There  was  a 
hot  sun,  and  the  bees  were  bumbling  in  the 
heather.  Somehow  Whitehall  seemed  a  long 
way  off. 

The  number  of  guns  had  been  brought  up 
to  seven  by  the  inclusion  of  a  neighbouring 
laird  —  one  Gilmerton  of  Nethercraigs  —  and 
his  son. 

"  All  the  same,  we  are  still  a  man  short," 
complained  the  Admiral,  to  whom  a  house- 
party  was  a  ship's  company,  and  a  day's  shoot- 
ing a  sort  of  terrestrial  naval  manoauvre. 
"  However,  we  will  cut  out  the  end  butt  in 


A  Misfire  199 

each  drive  and  put  a  stop  there  to  turn  the 
birds  farther  in.  Now  we'll  draw  for  places. 
Each  man  to  take  the  butt  whose  number  he 
draws,  counting  from  the  right  and  moving  up 
one  place  after  each  drive.  And  Heaven  help 
the  man  who  draws  number  four  now,  for  it 
means  number  seven  and  a  climb  up  The  Pimple 
for  him  directly  after  lunch  !  " 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  this,  which 
swelled  to  an  unseemly  roar  when  I  drew  the 
fatal  number. 

However,  after  lunch  was  a  long  way  off, 
and  I  trotted  contentedly  to  number  four  and 
settled  down  to  a  pipe,  while  the  head-keeper 
led  off  his  mixed  multitude  of  assistants,  dogs, 
boys,  and  red  flags  to  make  a  detour  and 
work  the  game  up  towards  us. 

The  first  drive  was  simple.  We  were  in  a 
long  and  rather  shallow  glen,  across  which  ran 
a  low  ridge,  dividing  it  into  two  almost  equal 
sections.  The  butts  were  placed  along  this 
ridge  ;  and  after  the  birds  had  been  sent  over 
us  the  beaters  would  work  round  to  the  other 
end  of  the  glen  and  drive  them  back  again. 
The  shooting  would  be  easy,  for  the  ground  lay 
flat  and  open  in  either  direction. 

I  found  myself  between  Standish  and  Gerald  ; 


200  The  Finished  Article 

the  former  on  my  right,  and  the  latter,  to- 
gether with  the  young  keeper  to  whom  his 
shooting  education  had  been  entrusted,  in  the 
butt  on  my  left.  Beyond  Standish  was  Der- 
mott,  the  crack  shot  of  the  party,  and  beyond 
Dermott,  in  number  one  butt,  was  the  Admiral. 
The  Gilmertons,  pkre  et  fils,  occupied  the  butts 
on  the  extreme  left. 

The  drive  was  moderately  successful.  At 
first  the  birds  came  along  singly,  mostly  on 
the  right,  and  fell  an  easy  prey  to  Dermott 
and  the  Admiral.  But  presently  a  great  pack 
got  up  comparatively  near  the  butts,  and  fairly 
"  rushed "  us.  I  brought  off  an  easy  right  and 
left  straight  in  front  of  me,  and  then,  snapping 
out  my  cartridges  and  slipping  another  in,  I 
swung  round  and  just  managed  to  bring  down 
a  third  bird  with  a  "stern  chaser"  —  a  feat 
which  I  regretted  to  observe  no  one  else 
noticed,  for  there  was  a  perfect  fusilade  all 
along  the  line  at  the  moment.  Master  Gerald, 
who  had  discharged  his  first  barrel  straight 
into  the  "  brown,"  succeeded,  in  obedience  to  his 
mentor's  admonitions,  in  covering  an  old  cock- 
grouse  with  his  second,  and  carefully  following 
that  flustered  fowl's  course  with  the  point  of 
his  gun,  pulled  the  trigger  just  as  it  skimmed, 


A  Misfire  201 

low  down,  with  an  agitated  squawk,  between 
his  butt  and  mine.  I  heard  the  shot  rattle 
through  the  heather,  and  two  pellets  hit  on 
my  left  boot. 

The  congenial  task  of  telling  Gerald,  in  a 
low  but  penetrating  voice,  exactly  what  I 
thought  of  him,  occupied  my  attention  so  fully 
for  the  next  minute  that  I  failed  to  observe 
a  blackcock  which  suddenly  swung  up  into  view 
and  whizzed  straight  past  my  head,  to  the  aud- 
ible annoyance  of  the  distant  Admiral  and  the 
undisguised  joy  of  my  unrepentant  relative. 

No  more  birds  came  after  that,  and  presently, 
the  line  of  beaters  having  advanced  within 
range,  we  put  down  our  guns  and  collected 
the  slain.  We  had  not  done  badly,  consider- 
ing the  fact  that  the  main  body  of  the  birds 
had  swerved  away  to  our  left  over  the  un- 
occupied butt,  despite  the  valiant  efforts  of 
an  urchin  with  a  red  flag  to  turn  them. 
Dermott  headed  the  list  with  four  and  a  half 
brace,  and  Gerald  brought  up  the  rear  with  a 
mangled  corpse  which  had  received  the  con- 
tents of  his  first  barrel  point  -  blank  at  a 
distance  of  about  six  feet.  The  laird  of 
Nethercraigs  (a  cautious  and  economical  sports- 
man, who  was  reputed  never  to  loose  off  his 


2O2  The  Finished  Article 

gun  at  anything  which  did  not  come  and  perch 
on  his  butt)  had  fired  just  three  cartridges  and 
killed  just  three-  birds,  but  his  son  had  seven. 
The  Admiral  and  Standish  had  also  had  aver- 
age luck,  and  altogether  we  had  fourteen  and 
a  half  brace  to  show  for  our  exertions. 

Off  went  the  beaters  again,  and  we  changed 
butts  and  waited.  The  second  drive  gave  us 
fewer  birds  but  better  sport.  There  were  no 
great  packs,  but  we  got  plenty  to  do  in  the 
way  of  sharp-shooting,  and  Gerald's  keeper — a 
singularly  ambiguous  title  in  this  case — suc- 
ceeded by  increased  vigilance  in  preserving  me 
from  being  further  sniped  by  my  enterprising 
brother-in-law. 

We  totalled  up  twelve  brace  this  time,  and 
then  made  ready  for  a  tramp  to  the  next  line 
of  butts,  away  round  the  shoulder  of  a  fairly 
distant  hill. 

"  We  may  as  well  spread  out  and  walk  'em 
up  this  bit,"  said  our  host.  "  We  can't  have 
the  dogs,  though,  as  the  keepers  and  beaters 
are  going  a  different  way ;  and  each  man  will 
have  to  carry  what  he  shoots.  In  that  case 
we'll  leave  rabbits  alone.  Gerald,  you  had  better 
get  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  line.  That  will 
limit  the  risk  to  one  man  ! " 


A  Misfire  203 

"  I'll  carry  home  your  bag  if  you'll  carry 
mine,  Gerald,"  cried  Standish  facetiously,  as 
my  brother  -  in  -  law,  a  trifle  offended  at  the 
Admiral's  last  pleasantry,  proceeded  with  much 
dignity  to  his  allotted  place. 

Gerald  was  almost  out  of  earshot,  but  he 
waved  a  defiant  acquiescence. 

We  tramped  round  the  shoulder  of  the  hill, 
keeping  our  distance  as  well  as  we  could  on 
the  steep  slope,  and  occasionally  putting  up 
something  to  shoot  at.  My  bag  this  time  made 
no  great  demands  on  my  powers  of  porterage, 
consisting  as  it  did  of  a  solitary  snipe.  However, 
when  nearly  an  hour  later  we  gathered  at  the 
foot  of  the  next  line  of  butts — the  last  before 
lunch  —  most  of  us  were  carrying  something. 
Standish  gleefully  displayed  two  hares  and  a 
brace  of  grouse. 

"  There  is  something  for  Master  Gerald  to 
carry  back  to  the  luncheon -cart,"  he  said.  "  I 
wonder  what  he  has  got  for  me.  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  quite  know,"  said  Dermott,  who  had 
been  Gerald's  nearest  neighbour.  "  He  was  so 
offended  by  our  gibes  about  the  danger  of  his 
society  that  he  walked  rather  wide  of  me.  He 
kept  down  at  the  very  foot  of  the  hill  most  of 
the  time,  almost  out  of  sight." 


2O4  The  Finished  Article 

"  I  hope  he  hasn't  shot  himself,"  said  the 
Admiral  rather  anxiously. 

"  Never  fear  ! "  said  I.  "  That  will  not  be  his 
end.  Here  he  is." 

Sure  enough,  Gerald  appeared  at  this  moment. 
He  was  empty-handed. 

Simple  and  primitive  jests  greeted  him. 

"  Hallo,  old  man,  what  have  you  shot — eh  ? 
Where  is  your  little  lot  ? " 

Gerald  smiled  seraphically. 

"  You'll  find  it  down  there,"  he  said — "  in  that 
patch  of  bracken,  Standish.  I  left  it  for  you  to 
bring  up.  Rather  heavy  for  me." 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  shot  ? "  we  cried 
involuntarily. 

"  A  sheep,"  said  Gerald  calmly. 

Great  heavens ! 

We  rushed  down  the  hill  as  one  man — and 
came  up  again  looking  not  a  little  hot  and 
uncommonly  foolish.  The  sheep  was  there,  it 
is  true,  stiff  and  stark  in  the  bracken ;  but  more 
senses  than  one  apprised  us  of  the  fact  that  it 
had  been  dead  for  considerably  more  than  five 
minutes.  Gerald  had  stumbled  on  to  the  corpse, 
and  had  turned  his  discovery,  we  afterwards 
admitted,  to  remarkably  good  advantage.  It 
was  "  Mi*  Standish's  turn,"  as  Miss  Buncle,  in 


A  Misfire  205 

the  picturesque  but  mysterious  vernacular  of 
her  race,  remarked  at  luncheon,  "  to  hold  the 
baby  this  time." 

After  the  third  drive  we  gladly  put  up  our 
guns  and  tramped  down  the  hillside  to  the  road 
below,  where  the  ladies  were  waiting  and  the 
feast  was  spread.  After  we  had  disposed  of 
grouse  sandwiches,  whisky-and- water,  and  jammy 
scones,  and  were  devoting  our  post  -  prandial 
leisure  to  repose  or  dalliance  with  the  fair — 
according  as  we  were  married  or  single — Lady 
Rubislaw  inquired — 

"  Where  are  you  shooting  this  afternoon, 
John  ? " 

"The  Neb,  first,"  replied  the  Admiral.  "And 
that  reminds  me,  the  man  who  drew  the  top 
butt  had  better  start  now,  or  he'll  be  late." 

With  many  groans,  and  followed  by  the 
mingled  derision  and  sympathy  of  the  company, 
I  picked  up  my  impedimenta  and  started,  leav- 
ing the  others  to  decide  who,  if  any,  of  the 
shooters  was  to  have  the  honour  of  entertaining 
a  lady  in  his  butt. 

The  Neb  was  a  great  mountain  spur,  whose 
base  ran  to  within  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
of  our  resting-place.  In  appearance  it  roughly 
resembled  a  mighty  Napoleonic  nose.  The  butts 


206  The  Finished  Article 

ran  right  up  the  ridge  of  that  organ ;  and  nine 
hundred  feet  above  where  we  sat,  just  below  an 
excrescence  locally  known  as  "  The  Pimple,"  lay 
mine. 

I  reached  my  eyrie  at  last,  and  having  laid 
my  flask,  tobacco-pouch,  and  twelve  loose  cart- 
ridges where  I  could  reach  them  most  handily 
on  projecting  shelves  of  peat  inside  the  butt — I 
love  neatness  and  method  :  Kitty  says  that  when 
(if  ever)  I  get  to  heaven  I  will  decline  to  enter 
until  I  have  wiped  my  boots, — settled  down  to 
enjoy  a  superb  view  and  take  note  of  the  not 
altogether  uninteresting  manner  in  which  the 
other  members  of  the  party  were  disposing  them- 
selves for  the  drive. 

Just  below  me  were  Standish  and  Miss  Buncle, 
the  lady  a  conspicuous  mark  for  all  men  (and 
grouse)  to  behold  by  reason  of  a  red  tarn  o' 
shanter,  the  sight  of  which  made  me  regret 
that  its  wearer  was  not  employed  as  a  beater. 
In  the  butt  below  were  Dermott  and  Dolly — 
both  very  workmanlike  and  inconspicuous.  Be- 
low them  came  the  Admiral,  with  his  wife  (she 
always  came  and  sat  behind  him,  like  a  remark- 
ably smart  little  powder-monkey,  during  the 
afternoon  drive) :  below  them,  the  Gilmertons ; 
and  last  of  all,  thank  Heaven !  Gerald. 


A  Misfire  207 

The  shooting  on  this  beat  would  not  be  easy, 
though  birds  were  always  plentiful.  They  came 
round  the  face  of  the  hill  at  very  short  range 
and  express  speed.  My  particular  butt  was 
notoriously  difficult  to  score  from.  There  was 
an  awkward  hummock  in  front  of  it,  and  driven 
birds  swinging  into  view  round  this  were  practi- 
cally right  over  the  butt  before  its  occupant  could 
get  his  gun  up. 

It  was  a  rather  sleepy  afternoon.  Far  away 
I  could  hear  the  sound  of  the  advancing  beaters 
— the  cries  of  the  boys,  the  occasional  barking 
of  a  dog,  and  the  shrill  piping  of  the  head- 
keeper's  whistle.  Suddenly  three  birds  swung 
into  view  round  the  face  of  the  hill,  and  made 
straight  for  the  line  of  butts.  They  were  just 
below  me,  nearer  to  Standish's  butt  than  mine, 
but  I  put  up  my  gun  and  picked  off  the  nearest. 
The  other  two,  instead  of  keeping  on  their  course 
over  Standish's  head,  suddenly  swerved  round  to 
the  left,  almost  at  right  angles — I  think  they 
had  seen  Miss  Buncle's  tarn  o'  shanter  and 
simultaneously  decided  that  there  are  worse 
things  than  death  —  and  flew  straight  down 
the  line,  followed  by  an  ineffectual  volley 
from  the  twelve  and  twenty  -  eight  bores  re- 
spectively. 


208  The  Finished  Article 

"  Now,  Dermott,  my  boy ! "  I  ejaculated,  as  the 
birds  skimmed  past  the  third  butt.  "  There's  a 
chance  for  a  really  pretty  right  and  left." 

But  no  sound — no  movement  even — came  from 
our  crack's  lair.  The  birds  flew  by  unharmed, 
only  to  fall  later  on,  one  to  the  Admiral,  and 
one  to  young  Gilmerton. 

"  Dormitat  Homerus,"  I  murmured,  gazing 
curiously  towards  Dermott's  butt.  "  I  wonder 
if — Jove,  there  they  go !  What  a  pack  !  Well 
done,  Gerald !  Oh,  Gilmerton,  you  old  sweep ! 
Fire,  man,  fire !  Good  old  Admiral !  Dermott, 
man,  what  the  devil Have  at  them  ! " 

I  fairly  danced  in  the  heather.  A  perfect 
cloud  of  birds  was  pouring  over  the  lower  part 
of  the  line.  The  Admiral,  the  Gilmertons,  and 
Gerald  were  firing  fast  and  furiously, — even  the 
laird  of  Nethercraigs  loosed  off  at  birds  that 
were  neither  running  nor  sitting,  —  and  when 
the  beaters  appeared  in  sight  five  minutes  later, 
and  the  drive  came  to  an  end,  the  four  lower 
butts  totalled  twelve  brace  among  them. 

I  humbly  proffered  my  solitary  contribution. 

"  Twelve  and  a  half,"  said  the  Admiral.  "  Now, 
Standish?" 

"  N.E.  this  time,"  remarked  that  youth  philo- 
sophically. 


A  Misfire  209 

The  Admiral  said  nothing,  but  I  saw  his 
choleric  blue  eyes  slide  round  in  the  direction 
of  Miss  Buncle's  headgear.  He  'turned  to 
Dermott. 

"  How  many,  old  man  ?  " 

"  Blob ! " 

That  Dermott  should  return  empty  -  handed 
from  any  kind  of  chase  was  so  surprising  that 
we  all  turned  round  for  the  explanation.  Der- 
mott was  looking  very  dejected.  This  was  evi- 
dently a  blow  to  his  professional  pride. 

"  Didn't  any  of  that  great  pack  come  near 
you  ? "  asked  the  Admiral  sympathetically. 

"  No — don't  think  so,"  said  Dermott  shortly. 

I  had  counted  eight  birds  flying  straight  over 
his  butt  myself,  but  I  said  nothing.  I  was  be- 
ginning to  comprehend.  Et  ego  in  Arcadia  vixi. 

But  the  obtuse  master-mariner  persisted. 

"How  about  that  brace  that  flew  right  down 
the  line?  You  must  have  seen  'em  coming  all 
the  way.  You  didn't  even  try  a  shot  at  them, 
man  ! " 

Dermott,  who  was  fastening  up  his  gaiter, 
answered  rather  listlessly — 

"  Sorry !     It  was — a  misfire,  I  think." 

"What?"  cried  the  outraged  Admiral.  "A 
misfire  ?  Both  barrels— of  both  guns  ? " 

o 


2io  The  Finished  Article 

I  did  not  hear  the  answer  to  this.  I  was 
looking  at  Dolly.  Her  face  could  not  be  seen, 
for  she  was  kneeling  down  a  little  distance 
away,  assiduously  fondling  the  silky  ears  of  a 
highly-gratified  red  setter.  And  I  realised  then 
that  some  expressions  are  capable  of  a  meta- 
phorical as  well  as  a  literal  interpretation. 


IV. 


My  wife  and  daughter  returned  home  in  the 
"machine"  in  time  for  dinner,  without  Robin. 

"  His  mother  kept  him,"  Kitty  explained. 
She  was  favouring  me  with  a  summary  of  her 
day's  adventures,  in  the  garden  after  dinner. 
"  Such  an  old  dear,  Adrian  I  And  his  father 
is  a  grand  old  man.  Very  solemn  and  scrip- 
tural-looking and  all  that,  but  so  courtly  and 
simple  when  once  he  gets  over  his  shyness. 
(He  tried  to  come  in  to  tea  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
but  his  wife  hustled  him  out  of  the  kitchen 
just  in  time.)  Sir  James  Fordyce  was  a  shock, 
though.  When  we  arrived  he  was  chopping 
turnips  in  a  machine,  dressed  in  clothes  like 
any  farm -labourer's.  He  said  it  was  fine  to 
get  back  to  his  own  people  again.  To  look  at 


A  Misfire  211 

him  you  would  never  guess  that  he  was  one  of 
the  best  known  men  in  London,  and  a  favourite 
at  Court,  and  such  an  old  dandy  in  Bond  Street. 
The  rest  of  the  household  didn't  seem  to  set 
any  particular  store  by  him.  They  took  him 
quite  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  What  a  pity  English  people  can't  do  the 
same,"  I  mused.  "  If  they  do  possess  a  dis- 
tinguished relative  they  brag  about  him,  and 
he  usually  responds  by  avoiding  them.  If  he 
does  honour  them  with  a  visit,  they  try  to  live 
up  to  him,  and  put  on  unnecessary  frills,  and 
summon  all  the  neighbourhood  to  come  and 
inspect  him." 

"  There's  nothing  of  that  kind  about  the  For- 

CJ 

dyces,"  said  Kitty.  "  Sir  James  was  just  one 
of  themselves ;  he  even  spoke  like  them.  It 
was,  '  Aye,  Jeems  ! '  and  '  Aye,  John  ! '  all  the 
time." 

"  How  about  the  rest  of  the  family  ? "  I 
inquired. 

"  The  mother  was  immensely  pleased  to  have 
Robin  with  her  again,  I  could  see,"  said  Kitty. 
"  She  made  no  particular  fuss  over  him,  but 
I'm  sure  she  simply  hugged  him  as  soon  as  we 
were  gone.  She  had  a  talk  with  me  about  him 
when  we  were  alone.  She  seems  to  regard  him 


212  The  Finished  Article 

as  the  least  successful  member  of  the  family, 
although  he  has  been  a  good  son  to  them. 
(Do  you  know,  Adrian,  he  has  sent  them  some- 
thing like  two  hundred  pounds  during  the  time 
he  has  been  with  us?  And  that  must  have 
left  him  little  enough  to  go  on  with,  goodness 
knows !)  But  I  don't  think  they  consider  him 
a  patch  on  the  eldest  son,  who  is  a  great  silent 
man  with  a  beard — a  sort  of  Scotch  John  Ridd. 
He  looks  years  older  than  Robin,  though  of 
course  he  isn't.  He  is  a  splendid  farmer,  his 
mother  tells  me,  and  greatly  "  respeckit "  in  the 
district.  But  the  poor  dear  was  so  frightened 
of  me  that  he  simply  bolted  from  the  house 
the  moment  he  had  finished  his  tea.  The  sister 
is  pretty,  and  nice  too,  but  shy.  I'm  afraid 
she  found  my  clothes  rather  overpowering, 
though  I'd  only  a  coat  and  skirt  on.  But  we 
got  on  splendidly  after  that.  She  is  going  to 
be  married  next  month,  to  the  minister,  which 
is  considered  an  immense  triumph  for  her  by 
the  whole  community.  We  must  send  them  a 
present.  By  the  way,  what's  the  matter  with 
Dolly?" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  poor  old  Dermott  ? " 
I  retorted. 

At  this  moment  the  much-enduring  "  machine  " 


A  Misfire  213 

jingled  up  to  the  door,  and  Captain  Dermott's 
luggage,  together  with  his  gun  -  cases  and  a 
generous  bundle  of  game  for  the  mess-table  at 
Aldershot,  was  piled  in  at  the  back.  Their 
owner  followed  after,  and  seeing  the  glowing 
end  of  my  cigar  in  the  dark,  advanced  to  say 
good-bye. 

Kitty  uttered  some  pretty  expression  of  regret 
at  his  departure,  and  flitted  into  the  house. 
Dermott  and  I  surveyed  each  other  silently 
through  the  darkness. 

"Is  it  any  use  asking  you  to  come  and  look 
us  up  in  town  ? "  I  said  at  last  rather  lamely. 

He  laughed  through  set  teeth — not  a  pretty 
sound. 

"  I  think  I'll — avoid  your  household  for  a  bit, 
Adrian,"  he  answered. 

I  nodded  gravely. 

"  I  see,"  I  said.     "  I — I'm  sorry,  old  man  ! " 

"  I'm  going  to  India,  if  I  can  get  away,"  he 
continued,  after  a  pause. 

"Good  scheme!"  I  replied.  "We  shall  think 
of  you  most  kindly — er,  all  of  us." 

He  said  nothing,  but  shook  hands  in  a  grateful 
sort  of  fashion,  and  turned  away. 

I  suppose  there  is  a  reason  for  everything  in 
this  world.  Still,  the  spectacle  of  a  good  man 


214  The  Finished  Article 

fighting  dumbly  with  a  cruel  disappointment 
— and  disappointment  is  perhaps  the  bitterest 
pill  in  all  the  pharmacopeia  of  life — is  certainly 
a  severe  test  of  one's  convictions  on  the  sub- 
ject. 

At  this  moment  the  rest  of  the  party — minus 
Dolly — flowed  out  on  to  the  doorstep  to  say 
farewell ;  and  two  minutes  later  Captain  Dermott 
drove  heavily  away — back  to  his  day's  work. 

Well,  thank  God  there  is  always  that ! 

"  I  thought  she  was  going  to  take  him,"  said 
Kitty  in  her  subsequent  summing-up.  "  It  was 
far  and  away  the  best  offer  she  has  ever  had. 
And  he  is  such  a  dear,  too !  What  does  the 
child  want,  I  wonder  !  A  coronet  ? " 

"  '  A  dinner  of  herbs/  perhaps,"  said  I. 

Kitty  eyed  me  thoughtfully,  and  gave  a  wise 
little  nod. 

"  Yes — Dolly  is  just  that  sort,"  she  agreed. 
"  But  what  makes  you  think  that  ? " 

"  Oh— nothing,"  I  said. 

There  are  certain  matters  upon  which  it  is 
almost  an  impertinence  for  a  man  to  offer  an 
opinion  to  a  woman,  and  I  rather  shrank  from 
rushing  in  where  my  wife  had  evidently  not 


A  Misfire  215 

thought  it  worth  while  to  tread.     Still.  I  could 

O  ' 

not  help  wondering  in  my  heart  whether  the 
arrival  of  one  gentleman  on  Sunday  may  not 
sometimes  have  something  to  do,  however  in- 
directly, with  the  abrupt  departure  of  another 
gentleman  on  Monday. 


2l6 


CHAPTER    TWELVE. 

THE    COMPLEAT  ANGLER. 

THE  Division  of  Stoneleigh,  which  had  hitherto 
done  me  the  honour  of  returning  me  as  its 
Member  of  Parliament,  is  a  triangular  tract  of 
country  in  the  north  of  England. 

At  the  apex  of  the  triangle  lies  Stoneleigh 
itself,  a  township  whose  chief  assets  are  an 
ancient  cathedral  at  one  end,  and  a  flourishing1 

'  O 

industry,  proclaiming  to  the  heavens  its  depend- 
ence upon  Hides  and  Tallow,  at  the  other.  The 
base  of  the  triangle  runs  along  the  sea -coast, 
and  is  dotted  with  fishing  villages.  Most  of  the 
intervening  area  is  under  cultivation. 

It  will  be  seen,  then,  that  the  character  of  my 
constituency  varied  in  a  perplexing  manner,  and 
while  I  could  usually  depend  upon  what  I  may 
call  the  Turnip  interest,  I  could  not  always  count 
with"  absolute  certainty  on  the  whole -hearted 
support  of  the  Fish  or  Hides-and-Tallow. 


The  Compleat  Angler  217 

To  this  delectable  microcosm  my  household 
and  I  migrated  one  bleak  day  in  February,  to 
commence  what  promised  to  be  an  arduous  and 
thoroughly  uncomfortable  electoral  campaign. 

The  Government  had  gone  out  at  last,  more 
from  inanition  than  over  any  definite  question 
of  policy ;  and  we  were  going  to  the  country  to 
face  what  is  paradoxically  termed  "  the  music." 
It  would  be  a  General  Election  in  every  sense 
of  the  word,  for  there  was  no  particular  question 
of  the  hour — this  was  before  the  days  of  Passive 
Resistance  and  Tariff  Reform — and  our  chief  bar 
to  success  would  undoubtedly  be  our  old  and  in- 
veterate enemy,  "  the  pendulum."  Of  course  we 
were  distributing  leaflets  galore,  and  blazoning 
panegyrics  on  our  own  legislative  achievements 
over  every  hoarding  in  the  country — especially 
where  our  opponents  had  already  posted  up 
scathing  denunciations  of  the  same  —  and  of 
course  we  declared  that  we  were  going  to  come 
again,  like  King  Arthur;  but  I  think  most  of 
us  realised  in  our  hearts  that  the  great  British 
Public,  having  decided  in  its  ponderous  but  not 
altogether  unreasonable  way  that  any  change 
of  government  must  be  for  the  better,  was  now 
going  to  pull  us  down  from  the  eminence  to 
which  we  had  been  precariously  clinging  for 


218  The  Finished  Article 

five  years,  and  set  up  another  row  of  legislative 
Aunt  Sallies  in  our  stead. 

However,  we  were  far  from  admitting  this. 
We  wore  our  favours,  waved  our  hats,  and  cele- 
brated our  approaching  triumph  with  as  great 
an  appearance  of  optimism  as  the  loss  of  seven 
consecutive  by-elections  would  permit. 

Our  party — Kitty,  Phillis,  Dolly,  and  myself: 
Dilly  and  Dicky  were  to  follow,  and  Robin  had 
preceded  us  by  two  days — was  met  at  the 
station  by  an  informal  but  influential  little 
deputation,  consisting  of  Mr  Cash,  my  agent, 
a  single-minded  creature  who  would  cheerfully 
have  done  his  best  to  get  Mephistopheles  re- 
turned as  member  if  he  had  been  officially  ap- 
pointed to  further  that  gentleman's  interests  ; 
old  Colonel  Vincey,  who  would  as  cheerfully 
have  voted  for  the  same  candidate  provided  he 
wore  Conservative  colours ;  Mr  Bugsley,  a  lead- 
ing linen-draper  and  ex-Mayor  of  the  town,  vice- 
chairman  of  our  local  organisation ;  Mr  Winch 
— locally  known  as  Beery  Bill — the  accredited 
mouthpiece  of  the  Stoneleigh  liquor  interest ; 
and  the  Dean,  who  came,  I  was  uncharitable 
enough  to  suspect  even  as  he  wrung  my  hand, 
on  business  not  unconnected  with  the  unfor- 
tunate deficit  in  the  fund  for  the  restoration 


The  Compleat  Angler  219 

of  the  North  Transept.  There  were  also  pres- 
ent one  or  two  reporters,  and  a  posse  of  the 
offscourings  of  Stoneleigh  small-boydom. 

We  drove  in  state  to  the  hotel.  Previous  to 
this  I  shook  hands  warmly  with  the  Station- 
master,  who  scowled  at  me — he  was  a  Home- 
Ruler  and  a  Baptist — and  gave  four  porters 
half- a -crown  apiece  for  lifting  our  luggage  on 
to  the  roof  of  a  cab.  I  also  handed  a  newsboy 
sixpence  for  a  copy  of  the  local  bi-weekly  organ 
which  supported  our  cause,  and  tendered  half- 
a- sovereign  in  payment  for  a  bunch  of  violets 
and  primroses — our  party  colours  in  this  district 
were  purple  and  gold — which  were  proffered  me 
outside  the  station  by  an  ancient  flower -selling 
dame  who,  Cash  hissed  into  my  ear,  happened 
to  be  the  mother  of  four  strapping  and  fully- 
enfranchised  sons ;  and  presented  an  unwashed 
stranger  who  was  holding  open  the  cab  door 
for  us  with  a  token  of  affection  and  esteem  which 
could  readily  be  commuted  into  several  hours' 
beer. 

On  arriving  at  the  hotel  I  handed  the  cabman 
a  fare  roughly  equivalent  to  the  cash  value  of 
the  cab,  and  then  proceeded  to  distribute  largesse 
to  a  crowd  of  menials  who  kindly  undertook  the 
task  of  lifting  the  luggage  from  the  roof  and 


22O  The  Finished  Article 

conveying  it  to  our  rooms.  The  horse,  having 
no  vote,  received  no  pecuniary  return  for  its 
labours,  but  was  rewarded  for  its  devotion  to 
Conservative  principles  by  a  lump  of  sugar, 
which  Phillis  had  been  tightly  holding  in  a 
moist  hand  ever  since  Cash  had  handed  it  to 
her  at  the  station — a  pretty  and  thoughtful  act 
of  disinterested  kindness  which  was  duly  noted 
in  the  Stoneleigh  Herald  next  morning,  and 
effectually  secured  the  votes  of  several  elusive 
but  sentimental  wobblers  on  polling  day. 

After  this  unostentatious  entry  into  my  con- 
stituency I  duly  established  myself  in  my  apart- 
ments, where  I  spent  most  of  the  afternoon 
writing  cheques.  The  restoration  of  the  North 
Transept  proved  to  be  in  an  even  more  deplor- 
able state  of  backwardness  than  I  had  feared ; 
but  the  Dean  ultimately  left  me  with  the  utmost 
expressions  of  goodwill,  promising  to  reassure  the 
most  exacting  spirits  in  Cathedral  society  as  to 
my  soundness  on  the  questions  of  (l)  Disestab- 
lishment and  (2)  Secular  Education  in  Elementary 
Schools. 

Thereafter  I  received  the  captain  of  the  local 
football  team,  who  begged  to  remind  me  that 
my  subscription  of  five  guineas,  as  Honorary 
Vice -President  of  the  club,  was  now  due,  and 


The  Compleat  Angler  221 

further  requested  that  I  would  do  himself  and 
colleagues  the  honour  of  kicking-off  in  the  match 
against  the  Scrappington  Hotstuffs  on  Saturday 
week.  (Saturday  next,  I  heard  afterwards,  had 
been  reserved  for  my  rival.)  He  finally  departed 
with  my  cheque  in  his  pocket,  and,  I  expect,  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek. 

Robin  next  let  in  upon  me  a  sub-section  of  the 
General  Purposes  Committee  of  the  Municipal 
Library,  who  begged  that  I  would  kindly  consent 
to  open  the  new  wing  thereof,  jointly  with  the 
rival  Candidate,  at  three  o'clock  next  Wednes- 
day ;  and  intimated  as  an  afterthought  that 
the  oak  bookcase  in  the  eastern  alcove  was 
still  unpaid  for.  They  departed  calling  down 
blessings  upon  my  head.  (Five  pounds  ten.) 

Next,  after  a  brief  call  from  a  gentleman  in  a 
blue  ribbon,  who  came  to  solicit  a  guinea  for  the 
Band  of  Hope,  and  who  left  in  exchange  one 
hundred  copies  of  a  picture  of  the  interior  of  a 
drunkard's  stomach,  executed  in  three  colours, 
came  Beery  Bill,  to  whom  the  reader  has  already 
been  introduced.  He  had  not  come  to  talk 
Politics,  he  said,  but  just  to  have  a  quiet  chat 
with  one  whom  he  hoped  he  could  regard  as  a 
personal  friend.  (I  got  out  my  fountain  pen.) 
The  chat  materialised  presently  into  an  intima- 


222  The  Finished  Article 

tion  that  the  Licensed  Victuallers  Benevolent 
Something-or-Other  was  short  of  cash ;  and  my 
visitor  suggested  that  a  trifle  in  support  of  the 
charities  of  that  most  deserving  institution  would 
come  gracefully  from  my  pocket.  On  handing 
me  the  receipt  he  informed  me  that  the  brewing 
trade  was  in  a  bad  way,  and  that  he  looked  to 
me  to  do  something  for  it  if  he  used  his  influence 
on  my  behalf  at  the  Election. 

The  next  visitor  was  an  eccentric  but  harmless 
old  gentleman  who  eked  out  a  precarious  liveli- 
hood as  a  Herbalist  —  whatever  that  may  be 
—in  the  most  plebeian  quarter  of  the  town. 
He  inhabited  a  small  and  stuffy  shop  up  a 
discreet  alley,  suffered  much  from  small  boys, 
sold  curious  drugs  and  potions  of  his  own  com- 
position, and  prescribed  for  persons  whose  means 
or  modesty  precluded  them  from  consulting  an 
orthodox  practitioner. 

He  was  threatened,  it  appeared,  with  the 
penalties  of  the  law.  He  had  sold  a  "  love- 
philtre  "  (pronounced  infallible  for  recalling 
errant  fiances  to  a  sense  of  duty)  to  an  amorous 
kitchen-maid  who  was  seeking  to  rekindle  the 
sacred  flame  in  the  bosom  of  an  unresponsive 
policeman.  The  damozel  had  mingled  the  potion 
in  a  plate  of  beefsteak  pudding,  and  had  handed 


The  Com  pleat  Angler  223 

the  same  out  of  the  scullery  window  to  her 
peripatetic  swain ;  with  the  sole  result  that 
that  limb  of  the  law  had  been  immediately 
and  violently  sick,  and,  the  moment  he  felt 
sufficiently  recovered  to  do  so,  had  declared 
the  already  debilitated  match  at  an  end.  The 
kitchen-maid,  rendered  desperate,  had  told  him 
the  whole  truth  ;  and  consequently  my  esteemed 
caller  was  now  wanted  by  the  police. 

The  catastrophe  of  the  pie,  he  explained,  was 
in  no  way  to  be  attributed  to  the  love-philtre 
(which  was  composed  of  sifted  sugar  and  cin- 
namon), but  was  due  to  the  fact  that  instead 
of  the  philtre  he  had  inadvertently  handed  his 
fair  client  a  packet  out  of  the  next  drawer, 
which  contained  ready-made-up  doses  of  tartaric 
acid  for  immediate  use  in  the  case  of  small  boys 
who  had  swallowed  sixpences.  Hinc  lacrymcB. 
In  spite  of  his  complete  consciousness  of  his 
own  innocence,  he  now  found  himself  compelled 
in  a  few  days'  time  to  defend  his  conduct  in 
a  court  of  law.  The  proceedings  would  cost 
money,  of  which  he  of  course  possessed  little 
or  none.  He  had  called,  he  said,  confident  in 
the  hope  that  I  would  assist  him  to  defray  the 
expense  of  vindicating  his  integrity  as  a  high- 
class  Herbalist  by  purchasing  six  bottles  of  his 


224  The  Finished  Article 

world -renowned  specific  for  neuralgia,  from  which 
dread  malady  he  had  been  informed — quite  incor- 
rectly, by  the  way — that  I  occasionally  suffered. 
The  thirty  shillings  thus  subscribed,  together 
with  a  few  odd  coins  which  he  himself  had 
contrived  to  scrape  together  during  a  long  life 
of  thrift,  would  secure  the  services  of  a  skilled 
advocate,  who  would  doubtless  be  able  to  prove 
to  the  satisfaction  of  justice  that  no  high-class 
Herbalist  would  ever  dream,  save  in  the  way  of 
kindness,  of  putting  tartaric  acid  into  a  police- 
man's beefsteak  pudding. 

He  added,  rather  inconsequently,  that  he  had 
voted  Conservative  at  the  last  three  elections, 
and  had  moreover  persuaded  all  the  other 
members  of  the  Royal  and  Ancient  Brother- 
hood of  High-class  Herbalists  to  do  the  same. 
(One  pound  ten.) 

My  last  visitor  was  a  seedy  individual  in 
corduroys,  who  asked  for  a  private  interview 
with  the '  Candidate,  and,  on  this  favour  being 
granted,  informed  me  in  a  confidential  and 
husky  whisper  that  he  knew  of  ten  good  men 
and  true,  fully  qualified  voters,  who  were  pre- 
pared to  go  to  the  poll  on  my  behalf  for  the 
trifling  fee  of  two  pound  ten  a-head  and  no 


The  Compleat  Angler  225 

questions  asked.  He  was  politely  but  firmly 
shown  into  the  street.  One  has  to  be  on  the 
look-out  against  persons  of  this  type. 

I  concluded  the  afternoon  by  a  rather  un- 
satisfactory interview  with  Mr  Cash.  He  was 
by  nature  a  boisterous  and  optimistic  person, 
but  on  this  occasion  I  found  him  inclined  to  be 
reticent  and  gloomy.  He  announced  with  a 
shake  of  the  head  that  my  rival  was  a  very 
strong  candidate ;  and  finally,  after  a  certain 
amount  of  pressing,  admitted  that  I  was  not 
altogether  as  universally  acceptable  to  my  own 
side  as  I  might  have  been. 

"  You  are  not  violent  enough,  Mr  Ingle- 
thwaite,"  he  said.  "You  sympathise  too  much 
with  the  point  of  view  of  the  opposite  side. 
That's  fatal." 

I  turned  to  Robin. 

"  You  hear  that  ?  "  I  said.  "  Don't  you  ever 
call  me  a  prejudiced  old  Tory  again,  Robin." 

"Then,"  continued  the  dolorous  Cash,  "you 
are  too  squeamish.  Those  posters  that  you 
wouldn't  allow  to  be  put  up — that  was  simply 
throwing  away  good  votes.  Politics  in  this 
part  of  the  country  can't  be  played  with  kid 
gloves.  Then  there  are  the  meetings.  You 


226  The  Finished  Article 

don't  let  the  other  side  have  it  hot  enough. 
Call  'em  robbers  and  liars  I  That's  what  wins 
an  election ! " 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  I  said  mournfully.  "  Robin, 
we  must  put  our  opinions  in  our  pockets  and 
beat  the  party  drum.  Come  on,  let  us  go  to 
the  Committee  Booms!" 

For  the  next  fortnight  we  worked  like  galley- 
slaves.  Each  morning  Kitty  and  I  drove  round 
the  town  in  an  open  carriage-and-pair  decorated 
with  our  colours,  bowing  to  such  of  our  con- 
stituents as  would  look  at  us,  and  punctiliously 
returning  any  salutes  we  received.  Occasionally 
whole-hearted  supporters  would  give  us  a  cheer, 
and  occasionally  —  rather  more  frequently,  it 
seemed  to  me — disagreeable  persons  booed  at 
us.  Once  we  were  held  up  outside  a  hide-and- 
tallow  work  by  a  gang  of  workmen  who  wished 
to  address  a  few  questions  to  the  Candidate. 
We  came  well  out  of  that  ordeal,  for  both 
Kitty  and  Dolly  happened  to  be  in  the  carriage 
that  day,  and  they  so  completely  captivated 
the  spokesman  of  the  deputation — no  wonder ! 
a  pretty  woman  never  looks  so  attractive  as 
in  furs — that  that  gentleman  concluded  a  cate- 
chism of  unpremeditated  brevity  and  incoherence 
by  proposing  a  vote  of  confidence  in,  coupled 


The  Compleat  Angler  227 

with  three  cheers  for,  Mr  Inglethwaite  and  his 
young  ladies ! 

On  another  occasion  a  gnarled  and  fervent 
Radical  of  the  bootmaking  persuasion  hobbled 
to  the  door  of  his  establishment,  and  waving 
clenched  and  uplifted  fists,  called  down  upon  us 
and  our  retreating  equipage  all  the  curses  at  the 
command  of  a  rather  extensive  vocabulary  until 
we  were  out  of  earshot. 

Occasionally  little  girls  threw  posies  into  the 
carriage :  little  boys,  not  to  be  outdone  in 
politeness,  threw  stones :  and  altogether  I  felt 
very  much  as  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey 
must  have  done  upon  the  historic  occasion  on 
which  he  solicited  the  votes  of  the  electors  of 
the  borough  of  Eatanswill. 

Talking  of  Eatanswill,  I  had  already  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Mr  Horatio  Fizkin  in  the 
person  of  my  opponent,  Mr  Alderman  Stridge, 
Wholesale  Provision  Merchant  and  Italian  Ware- 
houseman. His  selection  as  Liberal  Candidate 
was  a  blow  to  us :  we  had  hoped  for  nothing 
worse  than  a  briefless  carpet-bagger  from  the 
Temple,  as  on  previous  occasions.  However,  the 
Alderman  on  our  introduction  was  extremely 
affable,  and  expressed  a  hope,  with  the  air  of 
one  discovering  the  sentiment  for  the  first  time, 


228  The  Finished  Article 

that  the  best  man  might  win ;  to  which  I,  as 
in  duty  bound,  replied  that  I  hoped  not ;  and 
we  parted  with  mutual  expressions  of  goodwill 
and  esteem,  to  deride  each  other's  politics  and 
bespatter  each  other's  characters  on  countless 
platforms  and  doorsteps  until  we  should  meet 
again,  after  the  fray,  at  the  counting  of  the 
votes. 

On  returning  from  our  morning  drive  (which 
usually  included  an  open-air  meeting)  we  took 
luncheon,  generally  in  the  presence  of  various 
anaemic  young  men  who  represented  local  organs 
of  public  opinion,  and  who  expected  the  long- 
suffering  candidate  to  set  forth  his  views 
between  mouthfuls  of  chop  and  sips  of  sherry. 
I  usually  turned  these  over  to  Robin,  who 
understood  their  ways ;  and  he  charmed  them 
so  wisely  that  even  the  relentless  Cash  was 
compelled  to  admit  that  our  press  notices  might 
have  been  worse. 

Robin  was  a  tower  of  strength.  Indeed  he 
and  Dolly  were  my  two  chief  lieutenants ;  Dilly 
and  Dicky,  as  became  a  pair  who  had  only  been 
married  a  few  months,  proving  but  broken  reeds. 
A  week's  electioneering  proved  sufficient  for  their 
requirements ;  and,  declining  flatly  to  "  grin  like 
a  dog  and  run  about  the  city " — Dilly 's  pithy 


The  Compleat  Angler  229 

summary  of  the  art  of  canvassing — any  longer, 
they  left  us  ten  days  before  polling-day  to  pay 
a  country-house  visit.  But  Robin  was  every- 
where. He  answered  my  letters  and  he  inter- 
viewed reporters.  He  could  keep  a  meeting 
in  hand  (pending  my  arrival  from  another)  with 
such  success  that  when  I  finally  appeared  upon 
the  platform  to  take  up  the  wondrous  tale  of 
my  party's  perfections,  the  audience  were  loth 
to  let  Robin  go.  In  six  days  he  acquired  a 
knowledge  of  the  wants,  peculiarities,  weak- 
nesses, and  traditions  of  my  constituents  which 
had  occupied  all  my  powers  of  concentration 
and  absorption  for  six  arduous  years.  He  used 
to  drop  into  his  speeches  little  topical  allusions 
and  local  "  gags "  which,  though  Greek  to  the 
uninitiated,  never  failed  to  produce  a  roar :  and 
a  political  speaker  who  can  unfailingly  make 
his  audience  laugh  with  him — not  at  him — has 
gone  far  on  the  road  to  success. 

Once,  at  a  meeting,  when  I  was  half-way 
through  a  speech  to  an  unmistakably  bored 
and  rather  hostile  audience,  Robin,  who  was 
sitting  beside  me,  slipped  a  sheet  of  paper  on 
to  my  table.  The  message  on  the  paper,  written 
large  for  me  to  read,  said — Compare  Stridge  to 
the  Old  Lady  of  Dippleton.  What  the  lady 


230  The  Finished  Article 

had  done  I  did  not  know,  neither  had  I  time 
to  inquire ;  but  I  took  my  secretary's  advice, 
and,  after  pausing  for  a  brief  drink  of  water, 
concluded  my  sentence — 

" — and  I  maintain,  gentlemen,  that  my  op- 
ponent, in  advocating  such  a  policy  as  that 
which  he  has  had  the — the — yes,  the  effrontery 
to  lay  before  a  clear-thinking  and  broad-minded 
Stoneleigh  audience  last  night,  has  shown 
himself  to  be  no  wiser  in  his  generation,  no 
better  or  more  statesmanlike  in  character,  than 
— than — what  shall  we  say?  than" — I  glanced 
at  the  paper  on  the  table — "the  Old  Lady  of 
Dippleton ! " 

There  was  a  great  roar  of  laughter,  and  I 
sat  down.  I  was  ultimately  awarded  a  vote 
of  thanks,  which  should  by  rights  have  been 
given  to  the  heroine  of  my  closing  allusion.  I 
may  mention  here  that  no  subsequent  inquiry 
of  mine  ever  elicited  from  Robin  or  any  one 
else  what  the  Old  Lady  of  Dippleton  had  done. 
Probably  it  was  one  of  those  things  that  no 
real  lady  ever  ought  to  do,  and  I  discreetly 
left  it  at  that. 

Dolly,  too,  proved  a  treasure.  Her  strong  line 
was  canvassing.  She  could  ingratiate  herself 
with  short-tempered  and  over-driven  wives  ap- 


The  Compleat  Angler  231 

parently  without  effort ;  surly  husbands  melted 
before  her  smile ;  sheepish  young  men  forgot 
the  encumbering  existence  of  their  hands  and 
feet  in  her  presence ;  and  she  was  absolutely 
infallible  with  babies.  Her  methods  were  en- 
tirely her  own,  and  gratifyingly  free  from  the 
superior  and  patronising  airs  usually  adopted 
by  fine  ladies  when  they  go  to  solicit  the  votes 
of  that  variegated  and  much-graded  community 
which  they  cheerfully  and  indiscriminately  sum 
up  as  "the  lower  classes." 

Let  us  follow  her  as  she  flits  on  her  way 
to  pay  a  morning  call  upon  Mr  Noah  Gulching 
of  Jackson's  Row. 

Mr  Gulching,  she  finds,  is  absent  in  search 
of  a  job,  while  Mrs  Gulching,  thoroughly  cross 
and  worried,  is  doing  the  housework  with  one 
hand  and  dangling  a  fractious  teething  baby 
from  the  other.  The  rest  of  the  family  are 
engaged  in  playing  games  of  skill  and  chance 
(on  the  win,  tie,  or  wrangle  principle),  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  outside ;  and  piercing 
screams  testify  to  the  fact  that  John  William 
Gulching,  aged  two,  had  just  been  uprooted 
by  Mary  Kate  Gulching,  who  wants  to  lay  out 
a  new  Hop- Scotch  court,  from  the  flagstone  upon 
which  he  has  been  seated  for  the  last  half  hour 


232  The  Finished  Article 

and  dumped  down  upon  another,  the  warming 
of  which,  even  his  untutored  sensations  inform 
him,  will  be  a  matter  of  some  time  and  trouble. 

Dolly,  not  a  whit  dismayed  by  a  thoroughly 
ungracious  reception,  tucks  up  her  skirt,  rolls 
up  her  sleeves,  finishes  washing-up,  makes  a 
bed,  and  peels  some  potatoes.  Then  she  takes 
the  baby  and  attends  to  its  more  conspicuous 
wants,  what  time  Mrs  Gulching,  thoroughly 
mollified, — she  had  thought  at  first  that  Dolly 
was  "a  person  with  tracks," — goes  round  the 
corner  to  the  "  Drop  Inn,"  at  which  hostelry 
the  work  of  which  her  spouse  is  habitually  in 
pursuit  invariably  goes  to  ground,  and  brings 
that  gentleman  home  with  her,  to  find  Dolly 
playing  with  a  spotless  infant  whom  she  gradu- 
ally recognises  as  her  own  offspring. 

Dolly  begins  at  once. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr  Gulching !  I  expect  you 
think  I  am  one  of  those  horrid  canvassers." 

Mr  Gulching,  a  little  taken  aback,  admits  that 
such  was  his  impression. 

"Well,  I'm  not,"  says  Dolly.  (Oh,  Dolly!) 
"I  suppose  there  may  be  some  excuse  for  can- 
vassing among  people  who  do  not  take  much 
interest  in  politics, — though  7  shouldn't  like  to 
do  it, — but  it  would  be  rather  a  waste  of  time 


The  Compleat  Angler  233 

for  me  or  any  one  else  to  come  and  try  on 
that  sort  of  thing  with  you,  wouldn't  it, 
Mr  Gulching  ? " 

Mr  Gulching,  outwardly  frigid  but  inwardly 
liquescent,  agrees  that  this  is  so ;  and  adds  in 
a  truculent  growl  that  he  would  like  to  see 
'em  try  it  on. 

"  What  I  really  want,"  continues  Dolly,  "  is 
your  advice.  I  am  told  that  you  are  so  re- 
spected here,  and  have  such  a  knowledge  of 
the  requirements  of  the  neighbourhood,  that 
you  might  be  inclined  to  give  us  a  little  help 
in  a  scheme  which  Mr  Inglethwaite  has  in 
hand.  Schemes  for  the  improvement  of  some 
of  the  houses — not  snug  little  cribs  like  this, 
but  the  homes  of  people  who  are  not  so  clever 
and  able  to  take  care  of  themselves  as  you— 
and  the  supplying  of  more  amusements  in  the 
evenings ;  entertainments,  lectures " 

"  Teetotal  ?  "  inquires  Mr  Gulching  hoarsely. 

"  Oh  dear,  no.  I  am  sure  Mr  Inglethwaite 
would  not  wish  to  deprive  any  one  of  his  glass 
of  beer.  He  quite  agrees  with  your  views  about 
moderate  drinking."  (This,  I  may  mention,  is 
a  slanderous  libel  on  me,  but  it  sounds  all  right 
as  Dolly  says  it.)  "But  he  knows  that  the 
success  of  his  efforts  will  depend  entirely  upon 


234  The  Finished  Article 

whether  he  has  the  support  of  such  men  as 
yourself — men  who  know  what  they  want  and 
will  see  that  they  get  it.  We  can't  do  without 
you,  you  see,"  she  adds,  with  a  bewitching  little 
smile. 

Visible  swelling  on  the  part  of  Mr  Gulch  ing. 
Dolly  gets  up. 

"  Well,  I  know  you  are  a  busy  man,  Mr 
Gulching,  so  I  mustn't  keep  you  listening  to  a 
woman's  chatter  any  more.  I'm  afraid  I  haven't 
explained  things  very  deeply,  but  then  you  men 
are  such  creatures  for  wanting  to  get  to  the  root 
of  the  matter,  aren't  they,  Mrs  Gulching  ?  How- 
ever, Mr  Inglethwaite  will  call  shortly  and  dis- 
cuss things  with  you.  I  know  he  wants  your 
advice.  Meanwhile,  perhaps  you  will  mention 
the  matter  to  any  friends  of  yours  whom  you 
think  would  be  likely  to  help  us,  won't  you  ? 
Good  morning,  and  thank  you  so  much  for 
granting  me  this — er — interview.  An  English- 
man's house  is  his  castle,  isn't  it?  That  is 
why  it  was  so  good  of  you  to  let  me  come  in. 
Good-bye,  Mrs  Gulching.  He's  a  perfectly  sweet 
little  chap,  and  I  must  come  and  see  him  again, 
if  I  may."  (The  last  remark  is  a  little  ambig- 
uous, but  probably  refers  to  the  baby.) 

And  Dolly,  with   a  friendly  nod  to  the  rest 


The  Compleat  Angler  235 

of  the  family  (who  are  by  this  time  drawn  up 
en  echelon  at  the  street  door,  under  the  personal 
direction  of  Violet  Amelia  Gulching),  sails  out, 
followed  by  a  gratified  leer  from  the  greatly 
inflated  Mr  Gulching,  having  secured  that  free 
and  independent  elector's  vote  without  even 
having  asked  for  it.  And  yet  some  women  are 
crying  out  for  the  right  to  control  elections ! 

At  the  street  corner,  with  a  persuasive  finger 
in  the  buttonhole  of  an  unconvinced  Socialist 
(and  a  vigilant  eye  straining  down  the  long 
and  unlovely  vista  of  Jackson's  Row),  Dolly 
usually  encounters  Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce. 


236 


CHAPTER    THIRTEEN. 

A   HOSTAGE   TO   FORTUNE. 

NOMINATION  day  came,  and  I  was  duly  entered 
by  my  proprietors  for  the  Election  Stakes, 
though  I  was  painfully  aware  that  my  selec- 
tion as  Candidate  was  not  universally  popular. 

However,  as  Cash  remarked,  "  It  is  canvass- 
ing from  door  to  door  that  does  the  trick, 
and  there  you  have  the  bulge  on  Stridge.  He's 
not  a  bad  old  buffer  himself,  but  they  hate  his 
wife  like  poison.  She  drives  up  to  their  doors 
in  a  silver-plated  brougham  with  a  double- 
breasted  coachman,  and  tells  'em  to  vote  for 
Stridge,  not  because  he  used  to  live  in  a  one- 
roomed  house  himself — which  he  did,  and  her 
too  —  but  because  he's  a  local  god -on -wheels. 
Of  course  they  won't  stick  that." 

I  also  continued  to  address  meetings,  receive 
deputations,  and  generally  solicit  patronage  in 
a  way  that  would  have  made  a  cab -tout  blush 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  237 

for  shame.  As  a  recreation  I  kicked  off  at 
football  matches  and  laid  foundation-stones. 
The  most  important  function  in  which  I  took 
part  was  the  opening  of  the  new  wing  of  the 
Municipal  Library.  The  ceremony,  which  was 
by  way  of  being  a  non-party  affair,  took  place 
on  a  blustering  February  afternoon.  The  elite 
of  Stoneleigh  were  picturesquely  grouped  upon 
the  steps  of  the  main  entrance  of  the  Library, 
from  the  topmost  of  which  the  Mayor,  the 
Dean,  and  the  Candidates  addressed  a  shiver- 
ing and  apathetic  audience  below. 

Fortunately,  the  company  were  too  exclusively 
occupied  in  holding  on  their  hats  and  blowing 
their  blue  noses  to  pay  much  attention  to  the 
improving  harangues  of  Mr  Stridge  and  myself; 
which  was  perhaps  just  as  well,  for  men  who 
have  three  or  four  highly  critical  and  possibly 
hostile  meetings  to  address  later  in  the  day 
are  not  likely  to  waste  good  things  upon  an 
assembly  who  probably  cannot  hear  them,  and 
will  only  say  "  Hear,  hear ! "  in  sepulchral 
tones  if  they  do. 

The  actual  opening  of  the  wing  was  accom- 
plished quite  informally  (and  I  may  say  unex- 
pectedly) by  Kitty  and  Mrs  Stridge — a  fearsome 
matron,  who  looked  like  a  sort  of  Nonconform- 


238  The  Finished  Article 

ist  Boadicea — who  were  huddling  together  for 
warmth  in  the  recess  of  the  doorway.  On  a 
pedestal  before  them  lay  two  small  gold  keys, 
with  which  they  were  presently  to  unlock  the 
door  itself,  what  time  I,  in  trumpet  tones, 
declared  the  Library  open.  Whether  through 
natural  modesty  or  a  desire  to  escape  the  as- 
saults of  the  wind,  the  two  ladies  shrank  back 
so  closely  into  the  door  that  that  accommodating 
portal,  evidently  deeming  it  ungallant  to  wait 
even  for  a  golden  key  under  such  circumstances, 
incontinently  flew  open,  and  Mesdames  Ingle- 
thwaite  and  Stridge  subsided  gracefully  into  the 
arms  of  a  spectacled  and  embarrassed  Librarian, 
who  was  formally  waiting  inside  to  receive  the 
company  at  the  proper  moment. 

After  that,  the  proceedings,  which  so  far  had 
been  almost  as  bleak  as  the  weather,  went  with 
a  roar  to  the  finish. 

But  events  like  these  were  mere  oases  in  a 
desert  of  ceaseless  drudgery.  The  fight  grew 
sterner  and  stiffer,  and,  as  always  happens  on 
these  occasions,  the  neutral  and  the  apathetic 
began  to  bestir  themselves  and  take  sides.  A 
week  before  the  election  there  was  not  an  im- 
partial or  unbiassed  person  left  in  Stoneleigh. 
Collisions  between  supporters  of  either  party 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  239 

became  frequent  and  serious.  On  the  first 
occasion,  when  a  Conservative  sought  to  punc- 
tuate an  argument  by  discharging  a  small  gin- 
and-ginger  into  the  face  of  his  Liberal  opponent, 
and  the  Liberal  retaliated  by  felling  the  Con- 
servative to  the  earth  with  a  pint-pot,  Stridge 
and  I  wrote  quite  effusively  to  one  another 
apologising  for  the  exuberance  of  our  friends. 
A  week  later,  when  certain  upholders  of  my 
cause  bombarded  Stridge's  emporium  with  an 
assortment  of  Stridge's  own  eggs,  hitting  one 
of  Mr  Stridge's  white-jacketed  assistants  in  the 
eye,  and  severely  damaging  the  frontage  of  Mr 
Stridge's  Italian  warehouse — whereupon  local  and 
immediate  supporters  of  the  cause  of  Stridge 
squared  matters  by  putting  three  bombardiers 
into  a  horse  -  trough  —  Mr  Stridge  and  I  ex- 
pressed no  sort  of  regret  to  one  another  what- 
soever, but  referred  scathingly,  amid  rapturous 
cheers,  at  our  next  meetings  to  the  blackguardly 
policy  of  intimidation  and  hooliganism  by  which 
the  other  side  found  it  necessary  to  bolster  up 
a  barren  cause  and  hopeless  future ;  all  of  which 
shows  that  things  were  tuning  up  to  concert 
pitch. 

Results  of  other  elections  were  coming  in  every 
day,  and  they  were  not  by  any  means  favourable 


240  The  Finished  Article 

to  our  side.  Still,  we  kept  on  smiling,  and  talked 
largely  about  the  swing  of  the  pendulum — almost 
as  useful  a  phrase  as  "  Mesopotamia "  of  blessed 
memory — and  other  phenomena  of  reaction,  and 
hoped  for  the  best.  Champion,  who  had  been 
returned  for  his  constituency  by  a  thumping 
majority,  had  promised  to  come  down  and  speak 
for  me  at  a  great  meeting  two  nights  before 
the  election ;  and  Dubberley,  who  had  lost  his 
seat,  threatened  to  come  and  help  me  to  lose 
mine. 

With  the  exception  of  Eobin,  who  appeared 
to  be  made  of  some  material  cere  perennius, 
we  were  all  getting  the  least  bit  "tucked  up," 
from  my  humble  self  down  to  Phillis,  who  ap- 
peared at  breakfast  one  morning  looking  flushed 
and  rather  too  bright-eyed. 

"Electioneering  seems  to  be  telling  on  you, 
old  lady,"  I  remarked.  "  Feeling  quite  well — 
eh?" 

"  Just  a  teeny  headache,  daddy.  But "  — 
hastily — "I  can  come  with  you  to  the  meeting 
m  the  theatre  to-morrow  night,  can't  I  ?  it  will 
be  such  fun  !  " 

"Meeting?  My  little  girl,  it  does  not  begin 
till  an  hour  after  your  bed-time." 

"  That's  why  I  want  to  go,"  said  my  daughter 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  241 

frankly.  "  Besides,  I  do  love  pantomimes — especi- 
ally the  clowns  ! "  She  wriggled  ecstatically. 

Even  the  revelation  of  the  plain  truth — that 
the  pantomime  would  be  called  by  another  name 
and  the  clowns  would  appear  in  mufti — failed 
to  assuage  Phillis's  thirst  for  the  dramatic  sen- 
sation promised  by  a  meeting  in  a  theatre.  I 
was,  as  usual,  wTax  in  her  small  hands ;  and, 
man-like,  I  threw  the  onus  negandi  upon  Eve's 
shoulders. 

"Ask  your  mother,"  I  said;  and  flew  to  my 
day's  work. 

Thank  goodness,  it  was  almost  the  last.  To- 
morrow would  be  the  eve  of  the  poll,  and  at 
night  we  were  to  hold  our  monster  meeting. 
Three  thousand  people  would  be  present ;  a 
local  magnate,  Sir  Thomas  Wurzel  (of  Heycocks), 
would  occupy  the  chair ;  what  one  of  our  local 
reporters  insisted  on  calling  "  the  elite  of  the 
bon  ton "  would  be  ranged  upon  the  platform ; 
and  the  meeting  would  be  addressed  by  John 
Champion,  Robin,  —  they  always  wanted  him 
now, — and  the  much -enduring  Candidate.  The 
audience  would,  further,  be  made  the  recipients 
of  a  few  remarks  from  the  Chair  and  (unless  some- 
thing providential  happened)  from  Dubberley, 
who  was  to  second  a  vote  of  thanks  to  some- 

Q 


242  The  Finished  Article 

body — a  performance  which  might  take  anything 
up  to  fifty  minutes.  Altogether  a  feast  of  ora- 
tory, and  a  further  proof,  if  any  were  needed, 
that  the  English  are  a  hardy  race. 

Phillis  was  decidedly  unwell  next  morning, 
and  Kitty  prescribed  bed.  I  am  inclined  to  be 
an  anxious  parent,  but  there  was  little  time  for 
the  exercise  of  any  natural  instincts  on  this 
occasion.  Hounded  on  by  the  relentless  Cash, 
I  spent  the  day  in  a  final  house-to-house  canvass, 
being  fortunate  enough  to  find  at  home  several 
gentlemen  who  had  been  out  on  previous  occa- 
sions, and  who  now  graciously  permitted  Kitty 
to  present  them  with  a  resplendent  portrait  of 
what  at  first  sight  appeared  to  be  a  hairdresser's 
assistant  in  gala  costume,  but  which  an  obtrusive 
inscription  below  proclaimed  to  be  "Inglethwaite! 
The  Man  You  Know,  and  Who  Knows  You  ! " 

After  a  hasty  round  of  the  Committee  Rooms 
I  returned  to  our  hostelry,  the  Cathedral  Arms, 
where,  after  disposing  of  two  reporters  who 
wanted  an  advance  copy  of  my  evening's  speech, 
and  having  effusively  thanked  a  pompous  in- 
dividual for  a  sheaf  of  statistics  on  a  subject 
which  I  cannot  recall,  but  in  which  no  one 
outside  an  asylum  could  have  reasonably  been 
expected  to  take  any  interest  whatever,  and 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  243 

which  I  was  at  liberty  to  quote  (with  due 
acknowledgments)  to  any  extent  I  pleased,  I 
sat  down  with  Champion  and  Robin,  faint  yet 
pursuing,  to  fortify  myself  with  roast -beef  and 
whisky  for  the  labours  of  the  evening. 

Presently  Kitty  entered,  with  Dolly. 

"  Who  do  you  think  has  just  arrived  ? "  she  said. 

"  I  don't  know.     Not  a  deputation,  I  hope  ! " 

"  No.     Gerald — from  school." 

"Great  Scott!     Expelled?" 

"Oh  no.  It's  his  half-term  exeat.  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  it.  As  it  just  falls  in  with 
the  Election,  he  has  come  to  see  you  through, 
he  says." 

"  Right  I  Give  him  some  food  and  a  bed,  and 
we'll  send  him  round  with  one  of  the  brakes 
to-morrow,  to  bring  people  up  to  the  poll.  He 
has  a  gentle  compelling  way  about  him  that 
should  be  useful  to  us.  Has  he  brought  his 
inarticulate  friend  ? " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  tell  them  to  ask  at  the  office  for 
bedrooms." 

"They  have  done  that  already,"  said  Dolly. 
"  They  are  down  in  the  kitchen  now,  ordering 
dinner.  They  don't  propose  to  go  to  the  meet- 
ing. '  Better  fun  outside,'  they  say." 


244  The  Finished  Article 

"Lucky  little  devils!"  remarked  the  Candidate, 
with  feeling. 

"And,  Adrian,"  said  Kitty,  "I  don't  think  I'll 
come  either.  I'm  rather  bothered  about  Philly." 

I  laid  down  my  knife  and  fork. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Is  she  really  ill  ?  " 

"  N  -  no.  I  don't  think  so,  but  she  is  very 
feverish  and  wretched,  poor  kiddy.  I  tried  to 
get  hold  of  Dr  Martin  this  afternoon,  but  he  was 
miles  away  on  an  urgent  case,  and  won't  be  back 
till  to-morrow.  But  I  got  Dr  Farquharson " 

"Roaring  Radical!"  said  I  in  horror-struck 
tones. 

— "  Yes,  dear,  but  such  a  nice  old  thing ;  and 
Scotch  too,  Robin ' 

"  Aberdonian,"  said  Robin  dubiously. 

"  Well,"  continued  my  wife,  "  he  said  she 
would  need  care,  and  must  stay  in  bed.  He 
was  in  a  tearing  hurry,  as  he  had  to  go  on  to 
one  of  Stridge's  meetings — horrid  creature  ! — but 
he  promised  to  come  again  on  his  way  home. 
Do  you  think  it  very  important  that  I  should 
come  with  you  ?  " 

I  turned  to  my  secretary. 

"  What's  your  opinion,  Robin  ?  " 

"  I  think  Mrs  Inglethwaite  should  come.  They 
like  to  see  her  on  the  platform,  I  know." 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  245 

"  If  the  Candidate's  wife  does  not  appear, 
people  say  she  is  too  grand  for  them,"  put  in 
Champion. 

"I'll  stay  with  Philly,  Kit,"  said  Dolly. 

"  Will  you  ?  You  dear !  But  I  know  you 
want  to  come  yourself." 

"  Never  mind.     It  doesn't  matter." 

And  so  it  was  arranged. 

We  found  the  theatre  packed  to  suffocation. 
A  heated  band  of  musicians  (whose  degrees 
must  have  been  conferred  honoris  causa)  had 
just  concluded  a  set  of  airs  whose  sole  excuse 
for  existence  was  their  patriotic  character,  and 
Sir  Thomas  Wurzel  (of  Heycocks)  was  rising  to 
his  feet,  when  our  party  appeared  on  the  plat- 
form. Election  fever  was  running  high  by  this 
time ;  the  critical  spirit  was  almost  entirely 
obliterated  by  a  truly  human  desire  to  cut  the 
preliminaries  and  hit  somebody  in  the  eye ;  and 
we  were  greeted  with  deafening  cheers. 

Presently  Champion  was  introduced  and  called 
upon  to  speak.  He  was  personally  unknown  to 
the  crowd  before  him,  although  his  name  was 
familiar  to  them.  But  in  five  minutes  he  had 
the  entire  audience  in  his  grip.  He  made  them 
laugh,  and  he  made  them  cheer;  he  made  them 
breathe  hard,  and  he  made  them  chuckle.  Therr 


246  The  Finished  Article 

were  moments  when  the  vast  throng  sat  in 
death  -  like  silence,  while  Champion,  with  his 
voice  dropped  almost  to  a  whisper,  cajoled  them 
as  a  woman  cajoles  a  man.  Then  suddenly  he 
would  blare  out  another  battle-call,  and  provoke 
a  great  storm  of  cheering.  He  made  little  use 
of  gesture — occasionally  he  punctuated  a  remark 
with  an  impressive  forefinger,  but  he  had  the 
most  wonderful  voice  I  have  ever  heard.  I  sat 
and  watched  him  with  whole-hearted  admiration. 
It  is  true  that  he  was  not  doing  our  cause  any 
particular  good.  He  had  forgotten  that  he  was 
there  to  make  a  party  speech,  to  decry  his 
opponents,  and  crack  up  his  friends.  He  was 
soaring  away  into  other  regions,  and  —  most 
wonderful  of  all — he  was  taking  his  audience 
with  him.  He  besought  them  to  be  men,  to 
play  the  game,  to  think  straight,  to  awaken 
to  a  sense  of  responsibility,  and  to  remember 
the  magnitude  and  responsibility  of  their  task 
as  controllers  of  an  Empire.  He  breathed  into 
them  for  a  moment  a  portion  of  his  own  great 
spirit ;  and  many  a  small  tradesman  and  dull- 
souled  artisan  realised  that  night,  for  the  first 
(and  possibly  the  last)  time,  that  the  summit 
of  the  Universe  is  not  composed  of  hides  and 
tallow,  and  that  there  are  higher  things  than 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  247 

the  loaves  and  fishes  of  party  politics  and  the 
petty  triumphs  of  a  contested  election. 

From  a  strictly  tactical  point  of  view  all  this 
was  useless,  and  therefore  dangerous.  But  for 
a  brief  twenty  minutes  we  were  gods,  Utopians, 
Olympians,  joyously  planning  out  a  scheme  of 
things  as  they  should  be,  to  the  entire  oblivion 
of  things  as  they  are.  That  is  always  worth 
something. 

Then  he  sat  down,  and  we  came  to  earth 
again  with  a  bump,  recollecting  guiltily  the 
cause  for  which  we  were  assembled  and  met 
together  —  namely,  the  overwhelming  of  an 
Italian  warehouseman  and  the  retention  of  a 
parliamentary  seat  in  an  unimportant  provincial 
district. 

Once  only  have  I  heard  that  speech  bettered, 
and  that  was  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  a 
night  in  June  fifteen  years  later,  when  a  Prime 
Minister  started  up  from  the  Treasury  Bench  to 
defend  a  colleague  whose  Bill — since  recognised 
as  one  of  the  most  statesmanlike  measures  of 
our  generation  —  was  being  submitted  to  the 
narrowest  and  meanest  canons  of  party  criti- 
cism. It  was  another  appeal  for  fair -play,  un- 
biassed judgment,  and  breadth  of  view,  and  it 
took  a  hostile  and  captious  House,  Government 


248  The  Finished  Article 

and  Opposition  alike,  by  storm.  The  name  of 
the  Prime  Minister  on  that  occasion  was  John 
Champion,  and  the  colleague  whom  he  defended 
was  Robert  Chalmers  Fordyce. 

After  Champion  had  sat  down — nominally  his 
speech  was  a  vote  of  confidence  in  my  unworthy 
self — Robin  rose  to  second  the  motion.  I  did 
not  envy  him  his  task.  It  is  an  ungrateful 
business  at  the  best,  firing  off  squibs  directly 
after  a  shower  of  meteors.  Even  a  second 
shower  of  meteors  would  be  rather  a  failure 
under  the  circumstances.  Robin  realised  this. 
He  put  something  into  his  pocket  and  told  his 
audience  a  couple  of  stories — dry,  pawky,  Scot- 
tish yarns — which  he  admitted  were  not  new, 
not  true,  and  not  particularly  relevant.  The 
first  was  a  scurrilous  anecdote  concerning  a  man 
from  Paisley, — which  illustrious  township,  by  the 
way,  appears  to  be  the  target  of  practically  all 
Scottish  humour, — and  the  other  treated  of  a 
Highland  minister  who  was  delivering  to  a 
long  -  suffering  congregation  a  discourse  upon 
the  Minor  Prophets.  Robin  told  us  how  the 
preacher  worked  through  Obadiah,  Ezekiel, 
Nahum,  Malachi,  "  and  many  others  whose 
names  are  doubtless  equally  familiar  to  you, 
gentlemen,"  he  added  amid  chuckles,"  placing 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  249 

them  in  a  kind  of  ecclesiastical  order  of  merit  as 
he  proceeded  ;  and  finally  he  came  to  Habakkuk. 

"  '  What  place,  my  friends,  what  place  will  we 
assign  to  Habakkuk  ? '  he  roared. 

"  That,  gentlemen,"  said  Robin,  "  proved  to  be 
the  last  straw.  A  man  rose  up  under  the  gallery. 

" '  Ye  can  pit  him  doon  here  in  my  seat,'  he 
roared.  '  I'm  awa'  haine  ! ' 

"  Gentlemen,"  added  Robin,  as  the  shout  of 
laughter  subsided,  "  I  fear  that  one  of  you  will 
be  for  offering  his  seat  to  Habakkuk  if  I  go  on 
any  longer,  so  I  will  just  second  the  motion  and 
sit  down." 

After  that  I  rose  to  my  weary  feet  and  offered 
my  contribution.  I  have  no  intention  of  giving 
a  precis  of  my  speech  here.  It  was  exactly  the 
same  as  all  the  speeches  ever  delivered  on  such 
occasions.  Thucydides  could  have  written  it 
down  word  for  word  without  ever  having  heard 
me  deliver  it.  It  was  not  in  the  least  a  good 
speech,  but  it  was  the  sort  of  speech  they  ex- 
pected, and,  better  still,  it  was  the  sort  of  speech 
they  wanted.  Everybody  was  too  excited  to  be 
critical,  and  I  sat  down,  perspiring  and  thankful, 
amid  enthusiasm. 

Then  came  the  most  trying  ordeal  of  all — 
questions. 


250  The  Finished  Article 

I  am  no  hand  at  repartee ;  but  practice  had 
sharpened  my  faculties  in  this  direction,  and  I 
had,  moreover,  become  fairly  conversant  with 
the  type  of  query  to  which  the  seeker  after 
knowledge  on  these  occasions  usually  confines 
himself.  The  great  secret  is  to  bear  in  mind 
the  fact  that  what  people  want  in  one's  reply 
is  not  accurate  information — unless,  of  course, 
you  are  standing  for  a  Scottish  constituency, 
and  then  Heaven  help  you ! — but  something 
smart.  If  you  can  answer  the  question,  do  so ; 
but  in  any  case  answer  it  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  the  questioner  feel  small.  Then  you  will 
have  your  audience  with  you. 

To  prevent  unseemly  shouting  (and,  entre 
nous,  to  give  the  Candidate  a  little  more  time 
to  polish  up  his  impromptus),  the  questions 
were  handed  up  on  slips  of  paper  and  read 
aloud,  and  answered  seriatim.  They  were  sorted 
and  arranged  for  me  by  Robin,  and  I  not  in- 
frequently found,  among  the  various  slips,  a 
question  usually  coming  directly  after  a  regular 
poser,  in  Robin's  handwriting,  with  a  brilliant 
and  telling  reply  thoughtfully  appended. 

This  evening  as  usual  Robin  collected  the  slips 
from  the  stewards,  and  ultimately  laid  them  on 
the  table  before  me.  I  rose,  and  started  on  the 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  251 

heap.  The  first  was  a  typewritten  document 
which  had  been  handed  up  by  a  thoughtful- 
looking  gentleman  in  the  front  row.  It  con- 
tained a  single  line — 

Are  you  a  Liberal  or  a  Conservative  ? 

This  was  a  trifle  hard,  I  thought,  coming 
directly  after  my  speech ;  but  fortunately  the 
audience  considered  it  merely  funny,  and  roared 
when  I  remarked  pathetically,  "  This  gentle- 
man is  evidently  deaf." 

Then  came  the  question — 

Are,  you  in  favour  of  Woman's  Suffrage  ? 

This  was  no  novelty,  and  was  fortunately 
regarded  by  the  gallant  electors  present  as  a 
form  of  comic  relief.  I  adopted  my  usual  plan 
under  the  circumstances,  and  said — 

"  I  am  in  favour,  sir,  of  giving  a  woman  what- 
ever she  wants.  It  is  always  well  to  make  a 
virtue  of  necessity." 

This  homely  and  non-committal  gibe  satisfied 
most  of  the  audience,  and  I  was  about  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  next  question  when  my  interlocutor, 
a  litigious-looking  man  with  blue  spectacles,  rose 
in  the  circle  and  cried — 

"  You  are  evading  the  question,  sir !  Give 
me  an  answer.  Are  you  in  favour  of  Woman's 
Suffrage  or  not  ?  " 


252  The  Finished  Article 

"  That's  fair  !  Give  him  his  answer  ! "  came 
the  cry  from  the  fickle  audience. 

I  was  quite  prepared  for  this.  I  went  through 
an  oft-rehearsed  and  not  uneffective  piece  of  pan- 
tomime with  Kitty,  and  replied — 

"Well,  sir,  I  have  just  inquired  of  my  wife, 
who  is  by  my  side " 

I  paused  expectantly.  I  was  not  disappointed. 
There  were  loud  cheers,  during  which  I  seized 
the  opportunity  to  glance  through  the  next  few 
questions.  Then,  as  I  was  not  quite  ready— 

" — As  she  has  always  been,  all  through  this 
arduous  campaign " 

Terrific  enthusiasm,  while  Kitty  blushes  and 
bows  very  prettily ;  after  which  the  conversation 
proceeds  on  the  following  lines : — 

Myself.  And  she  tells  me  that  she  does  not 
want  any  Suffrage  of  any  kind  whatsoever ! 

"  Hear,  hear ! "    But  some  cries  of  disapproval. 

Myself.  I  therefore  recommend  you,  sir,  to  go 
home  and  follow  my  example 

(Perfect  tornado  of  laughter.  Apparently  I 
have  made  a  home-thrust.) 

— And  after  that,  if  you  will  come  back  to 
me  and  report  the  result  of  your — er — investiga- 
tions— (yells) — I  shall  be  happy  to  go  into  the 
matter  with  you  more  fully. 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  253 

Triumphant  cheers,  and  the  blue -spectacled 
man  collapses. 

The  unfortunate  espouser  of  the  cause  of  the 
fair  having  thus  been  derided  out  of  court,  I 
took  up  the  next  question.  It  concerned  a  long- 
standing dispute  as  to  the  rights  of  the  clergy 
of  various  denominations  to  enter  the  local  Board 
Schools, — this  was  in  the  days  far  preceding  the 
present  educational  deadlock, — and  I  felt  that 
I  must  walk  warily.  I  talked  at  large  about 
liberty  of  conscience  and  religious  toleration,  but 
realised  as  I  rambled  on  that  my  moderate  views 
and  want  of  bigotry  in  one  direction  or  the  other 
were  pleasing  no  one.  John  Bull  is  a  curious 
creature.  You  may  get  drunk  and  beat  your 
wife,  and  he  will  tolerate  you ;  you  may  run 
amok  through  most  of  the  Decalogue,  and  he 
will  still  be  your  friend ;  but  venture  to  worship 
your  Maker  in  a  fashion  which  differs  one  tittle 
ironi  his  own,  and  he  will  put  down  his  pint-pot 
or  desist  from  sanding  the  sugar  and  fell  you  to 
the  earth.  I  was  glad  to  get  away  from  this 
subject,  leaving  the  audience  far  from  satisfied, 
and  turn  to  the  next  question.  It  said — 

Is  the  Candidate  aware  that  the  important 
township  of  Spr  ailing  is  entirely  without  a,  pier 
or  jetty  of  any  description  ? 


254  The  Finished  Article 

"  Certainly  I  am  aware  of  it,"  I  replied,  trying 
hard  to  remember  where  the  place  was.  The 
audience  began  to  titter,  and  I  felt  uneasy. 

My  questioner,  a  saturnine  gentleman  in  the 
pit,  rose  to  his  feet  and  continued — 

"  And  if  returned  to  Parliament,  will  you  exert 
your  influence  to  see  that  a  jetty  is  constructed 
there  at  the  earliest  opportunity  ? " 

"  Cer—  There  was  a  very  slight  move- 

ment beside  me.  Robin  was  leaning  back 
unconcernedly  in  his  chair,  but  on  the  table 
under  my  nose  lay  a  sheet  of  paper  bearing 
these  words  in  large  printed  capitals — 

SPRATLING   IS   TEN    MILES    FROM 
THE   SEA! 

It  had  been  a  near  thing. 

"  Certainly,"  I  continued.  "  On  one  condition 
only,"  I  added  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  above 
the  rising  tide  of  mocking  laughter,  — "  on 
condition  that  you,  sir,  will  personally  guar- 
antee a  continuous  and  efficient  service  of  fast 
steamers  between  Spratling  and  —  the  sea- 
coast  ! " 

It    was    not    a    brilliant    effort.       I    think    I 


A  Hostage  to  Fortune  255 

could  have  made  more  of  it  if  I  had  had  more 
time.     But  it  served.     How  they  laughed  ! 

But  there  were  breakers  ahead.  The  next 
question  asked  if  I  was  in  favour  of  compulsory 
land  purchase  and  small  holdings.  Of  course 
I  was  not ;  but  if  I  said  so  I  knew  I  should 
rouse  a  dangerous  storm,  for  the  community 
were  much  bitten  at  the  time  with  the  "  Vine 
and  Fig-tree  Fetish,"  as  some  one  had  happily 
described  it.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  said  Yes, 
I  should,  besides  telling  a  lie,  —  though,  as 
Cash  once  remarked  to  me,  "You  can't  strain 
at  gnats  on  polling  -  day,"  —  be  committing 
myself  to  a  scheme,  which  I  knew  Stridge 
had  been  strongly  urging,  for  dividing  up 
some  of  the  estate  of  the  Lord  of  the  Manor, 
the  Earl  of  Carbolton  (whom  I  knew  personally 
for  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  considerate 
landlords  in  the  country)  into  allotments  for 
the  benefit  of  an  industrial  population  who 
probably  thought  that  turnips  grew  on  trees. 
It  would  have  been  easy  to  make  some  easily 
broken  promise,  but  I  have  my  poor  pride, 
and  I  never  offer  the  most  academic  blessing 
to  a  measure  that  I  am  not  prepared  to  go 
into  a  Lobby  for.  I  wanted  time  to  think. 
Perhaps  Robin  would  slip  something  on  to 


256  The  Finished  Article 

the  table.  I  accordingly  played  my  usual 
card,  and  said — 

"Now  this,  gentleman,  is  an  important  ques- 
tion, and  I  am  very  glad  it  has  been  asked." 
(Oh,  Adrian,  my  boy!)  "And  when  I  am 
faced  with  such  a  question,  I  always  ask 
myself,  'What,  under  the  circumstances,  would 
be  the  course  of  action  of— our  great  leader  ? ' : 

The  device  succeeded,  and  the  theatre  re- 
sounded with  frenzied  cheers.  I  turned  to 
Robin.  He  was  not  there. 

I  swung  round  in  Kitty's  direction.  She 
had  left  her  chair,  and  was  hurriedly  making 
her  way  through  the  group  of  important 
nobodies  behind  me  in  the  direction  of  the 
wings.  Robin  was  there  already,  in  earnest 
conversation  with  a  girl. 

It  was  Dolly. 

Phillis? 


257 


CHAPTER,    FOURTEEN. 


"TO   DIE — WILL   BE   AN   AWFULLY  BIG 

ADVENTURE ! " 

— Peter  Pan. 


Two  minutes  later  we  were  driving  back  to 
the  Cathedral  Arms.  It  was  snowing  heavily, 
but  I  never  noticed  the  fact.  Neither  did  I 
realise  that  I  had  abandoned  my  post  at  a 
critical  and  dangerous  moment,  and  left  my 
friends  on  the  platform  to  explain  to  a  puzzled 
and  angry  audience  why  the  Candidate  had 
run  away  without  answering  their  questions. 
But  there  are  deeper  things  than  politics. 

Phillis,  we  learned  from  Dolly,  had  been 
attacked  by  violent  pains  early  in  the  evening ; 
and  about  nine  o'clock  there  had  been  a  sud- 
den rise  of  temperature,  with  slight  delirium, 
followed  by  a  complete  and  alarming  collapse. 
Dr  Farquharson  had  been  sent  for,  hot -foot, 

B 


258  The  Finished  Article 

from    Stridge's   platform,   and  his  first  proceed- 
ing had  been  to  summon  me  from  mine. 

He  was  waiting  for  us  in  the  hall  of  the 
hotel  when  we  arrived,  and  Kitty  and  I  took 
him  into  our  sitting  -  room  and,  parent-like, 
begged  to  be  told  "the  worst." 

The  doctor  —  a  dour  and  deliberate  Scot- 
declined  to  be  positive,  but  "  doubted  "  it 
might  be  perityphlitis.  "Appendicitis  is  a 
more  fashionable  term,"  he  added.  The  child 
had  rallied,  but  was  very  ill,  and  nothing 
more  could  be  done  at  present  except  keep 
her  warm  and  afford  relief  by  means  of  poul- 
tices and  fomentations  until  the  malady  should 
take  a  definite  turn  for  the  better  or  the 
worse. 

"  In  either  case  we  shall  know  what  to  do 
then,"  he  said ;  "  but  for  the  present  the 
bairn  must  just  fight  her  own  battle.  Has 
she  good  health,  as  a  rule  ? " 

Yes,  thank  God !  she  had.  Physically  she 
was  frail  enough,  but  she  possessed  a  tough 
little  constitution.  After  I  had  taken  a  peep 
into  the  room  where  the  poor  child,  a  vision 
of  tumbled  hair  and  wide  bright  eyes,  lay 
moaning  and  tossing,  I  left  Kitty  and  Dolly 
and  the  doctor  to  do  what  they  could  for 


"  To  Die — will  be  an  Adventure  ! "     259 

her,  and  went  downstairs  to  take  counsel  with 
my  friends. 

Now  that  the  first  shock  was  past,  my  head 
was  clear  again,  and  my  course  lay  plain  before 
me.  Downstairs  I  found  Robin,  Champion, 
and  Cash  silently  taking  supper. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  when  I  had  answered 
Robin's  anxious  inquiries  —  I  believe  he  loved 
the  child  almost  as  much  as  I  did  — "  this 
misfortune  has  come  at  a  bad  time  ;  but  one 
thing  is  quite  plain,  and  that  is  that  I  must 
go  through  with  the  election.  I  quite  see 
that  I  am  not  my  own  master  at  present." 

Cash  looked  immensely  relieved.  Evidently 
he  had  been  afraid  that  I  would  throw  up 
the  sponge.  Robin  and  Champion  nodded  a 
grave  assent,  and  the  latter  said — 

"You  are  right,  Adrian.  It's  the  only 
thing  to  do." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Cash.  "  I  am  sure  you 
have  our  deepest  sympathy,  Mr  Inglethwaite, 
but  we  can't  possibly  let  you  off  on  any  account." 

It  was  not  a  very  happy  way  of  putting  it, 
but  Cash  was  an  election  agent  first  and  a 
man  afterwards. 

"  It  was  bad  enough  your  running  away  from 
the  meeting  to-night,"  he  continued,  in  tones 


260  The  Finished  Article 

which  he  tried  vainly  to  keep  from  sounding 
reproachful.  "  They'd  have  torn  the  benches 
up  if  Mr  Fordyce  hadn't  let  'em  have  it  straight. 
I'm  afraid  it  will  cost  us  votes  to-morrow." 

All  this  grated  a  good  deal.  I  could  hear 
Robin  begin  to  breathe  through  his  nose,  and 
I  knew  that  sign.  I  broke  in — 

"What  did  you  say  to  them,  Bobin?" 

"  Say  ?  I  don't  really  know.  I  assured  them 
that  you  must  have  some  good  reason  for 
leaving  in  such  a  hurry,  and  persuaded  them 
to  keep  quiet  for  a  bit  in  case  you  came  back. 
We  put  up  a  few  more  speakers,  but  the  people 
got  more  and  more  out  of  hand ;  and  finally, 
after  about  five  minutes  of  Dubberley,  they 
grew  so  riotous  that  we  ended  the  meeting." 

"  They  had  every  excuse,"  said  L  "  They 
considered  themselves  defrauded." 

"So  they  were,"  said  Cash. 

" Of  course,  if  they  had  known"  said  Cham- 
pion, "  they  would  have  gone  home  like  lambs." 

"  Somehow,"  said  Robin,  "  I  wish  they  could 
have  been  told,  Adrian.  I  should  have  liked 
fine  to  explain  to  them  that  you  didn't  leave 
the  meeting  just  because  you  couldn't  answer 
that  last  question." 

"  By  gum ! "     Cash  had  been  striving  to  de- 


"To  Die — will  be  an  Adventure!"     261 

liver  himself  for  some  time.  "  Mr  Inglethwaite," 
he  said  excitedly,  "  they  must  be  told  at  once ! 
We  can  get  more  good  out  of  your  little  girl's 
illness  than  fifty  meetings  would  do  us.  You 
know  what  the  British  public  are  !  I'll  circulate 
the  real  reason  of  your  departure  from  the  meet- 
ing first  thing  to-morrow  morning,  and  half  the 
wobblers  in  the  place  will  vote  for  you  out  of 
sheer  kind-heartedness.  I  know  'em  !  " 

The  exemplary  creature  almost  smacked  his 
lips. 

There  was  a  tense  silence  all  round  the  table. 
Then  I  said,  with  some  heat — 

"  Mr  Cash,  I  have  delivered  myself  into  your 
hands,  body  and  soul,  ever  since  Nomination 
Day,  and  I  have  obeyed  you  to  the  letter  all 
through  this  campaign.  But — I  am  not  going 
to  allow  a  sick  child's  sufferings  to  be  employed 
as  a  political  asset  to-morrow." 

There  was  a  sympathetic  growl  from  the  other 
two. 

"  Oh,  we  shouldn't  do  it  as  publicly  as  all 
that,"  said  the  unabashed  Cash.  "Trust  me! 
No  ostentation ;  just  an  explanatory  report  cir- 
culated in  a  subdued  sort  of  way  —  and  per- 
haps a  strip  of  tan  -  bark  down  on  the  road 
outside  the  hotel — eh  ?  /  know  how  to  do  it. 


262  The  Finished  Article 

It'll  pay,  I  tell  you.  And  there'll  be  no 
publicity " 

I  laid  my  head  upon  the  table  and  groaned. 
For  three  weeks  I  had  had  perhaps  four  hours' 
sleep  a- night,  and  I  had  been  worked  down  to 
my  last  reserve  of  energy,  keeping  in  hand  just 
enough  to  meet  all  the  probable  contingencies 
of  to-morrow's  election.  Dialectics  with  Cash 
as  to  the  market  value  of  a  little  girl's  illness 
had  not  been  included  in  the  estimate.  I 
groaned. 

Champion  answered  for  me. 

"Mr  Cash,  don't  you  see  how  painful  these 
proposals  are  to  Mr  Inglethwaite  ?  Put  such 
ideas  out  of  your  head  once  and  for  all.  No 
man  worthy  of  the  name  would  accept  votes 
won  in  such  a  way." 

There  was  a  confirmatory  rumble  from  Robin. 

"We  can't  have  ad  misericordiam  appeals 
here,  Mr  Cash,"  he  said. 

Champion  continued  briskly — 

"  Now,  Mr  Cash,  we  will  get  Mr  Inglethwaite 
a  drink  and  send  him  to  bed.  He  has  not  had 
a  decent  night's  rest  for  a  fortnight.  We  trust 
to  you  not  to  talk  of  the  child's  illness  to  any- 
body,—  that  is  the  only  way  to  avoid  making 
capital  of  it, — and  if  you  will  call  here  to-morrow 


"To  Die — will  be  an  Adventure!       263 

after  breakfast  I  will  guarantee  that  your  Candi- 
date will  be  fit  and  ready  to  go  round  the  polling- 
booths  with  you,  and  " — he  put  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder — "  set  an  example  to  all  of  us." 

Cash,  completely  pulverised,  departed  as  bid- 
den, desolated  over  this  renunciation  of  eleemosy- 
nary votes  ;  and  Robin,  Champion,  and  I  finished 
our  supper  in  peace, — if  one  can  call  it  peace 
when  there  is  no  peace. 

Champion  was  leaving  by  the  night  mail,  for 
he  had  promised  to  address  a  meeting  two  hun- 
dred miles  away  next  day.  His  cab  was  already 
at  the  door,  and  we  said  good-bye  to  him  on  the 
hotel  steps. 

He  shook  hands  with  me  in  silence,  and  turned 
to  Robin. 

"Three  fingers,  and  not  too  much  soda,  and 
then  put  him  straight  to  bed,"  he  commanded. 

Then  he  turned  to  me  again. 

"Don't  sit  up  and  worry,  old  man,"  he  said. 
"Go  to  bed,  anyhow.  The  doctor  and  your 
womenfolk  will  do  all  that  can  be  done.  Your 
duties  commence  to-morrow.  Keep  your  tail  up, 
and  face  it  out.  Noblesse  oblige,  you  know. 
Good-night." 

He  drove  away,  and  Robin  and  I  returned 
to  the  sitting-room. 


264  The  Finished  Article 

Robin  mixed  me  a  stiff  whisky-and-soda. 

"  Champion's  prescription,"  he  said.  "  Down 
with  it!" 

I  obeyed  listlessly. 

"  Now  come  along  upstairs  with  me.  You 
are  going  to  bed.  I  want  to  turn  you  out  a 
first -class  Candidate  in  the  morning  —  not  a 
boiled  owl." 

His  cheery  masterfulness  had  its  effect,  and 
I  suddenly  felt  a  man  again. 

"  Never  fear  ! "  I  said.  "  I  shall  go  through 
with  it  right  enough — the  whole  business — un- 
less— unless — Robin,  old  man,  supposing — sup- 
posing  " 

"Blethers!"  said  Robin  hastily.  "She'll  be 
much  better  in  the  morning.  Here's  your  room. 
Good-night!" 

He  shepherded  me  into  my  bedroom,  shut  the 
door  on  me,  and  tiptoed  away. 

I  really  made  a  determined  effort  to  go  to 
bed.  I  actually  lay  down  and  covered  myself 
up,  but  sleep  I  could  not.  After  an  hour  of 
conscientious  endeavour  I  rose,  inspired  with  a 
new  idea. 

The  doctor  had  straitly  forbidden  me  to  enter 
Phillis's  room ;  but  opening  out  of  it  was  the 
apartment  that  was  used  as  her  nursery.  There 


"To  Die — will  be  an  Adventure!"     265 

would  be  a  fire  there :  I  would  spend  the  rest  of 
the  night  on  a  sofa  in  front  of  it. 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  one  o'clock.  I 
took  a  candle,  walked  softly  down  the  passage, 
and  let  myself  quietly  into  the  nursery.  The 
door  leading  into  Phillis's  room  was  ajar,  and  a 
slight  smell  of  some  drug  or  disinfectant  assailed 
my  sharpened  senses. 

The  room  was  in  darkness,  except  that  a  good 
fire  burned  in  the  grate.  A  silent  figure  rose  up 
from  before  it  at  my  entrance. 

It  was  Robin.  Somehow  I  was  not  in  the 
least  surprised  to  see  him  there. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said  softly.  "  I  was  ex- 
pecting you." 

We  sat  there  for  the  rest  of  the  long  night. 
The  house  was  very  still,  but  every  quarter  of 
an  hour  the  Cathedral  chimes  across  the  Close — 
our  rooms  lay  in  a  quiet  wing  of  the  hotel,  which 
formed  a  hollow  square  with  the  Cathedral, 
Chapter-house,  and  Canonries — furnished  a  musi- 
cal break  in  the  silence.  So  tensely  mechanical 
does  one's  brain  become  under  such  circumstances, 
that  presently  I  found  myself  anticipating  the 
exact  moment  when  the  next  quarter  would 
strike ;  and  I  remember  feeling  quite  disap- 


266  The  Finished  Article 

pointed  and  irritable  if,  when  I  said  to  myself 
"Now!"  the  chime  did  not  ring  out  for  another 
fifteen  seconds  or  so.  Truly,  at  three  o'clock  on 
a  sleepless  morning  the  grasshopper  is  a  burden. 

Once  Robin  rose  softly  to  his  feet  and  turned 
towards  the  door  of  Phillis's  room.  I  had  not 
heard  any  one  move  there,  but  when  I  looked 
round  Dolly  was  standing  on  the  threshold.  She 
was  wrapped  in  a  kimono, — I  remember  its  exact 
colour  and  pattern  to  this  day,  and  the  curious 
manner  in  which  the  heraldic  -  looking  animals 
embroidered  upon  it  winked  at  me  in  the  fire- 
light, —  and  she  held  an  incongruous  -  looking 
coal-scuttle  in  her  hand.  It  was  not  by  any 
means  empty,  but  she  handed  it  to  Robin 
with  a  little  nod  of  authority  and  vanished 
again. 

I  looked  listlessly  at  Robin,  wondering  what 
he  was  to  do  with  the  coal-scuttle.  He  began 
to  cut  a  newspaper  into  strips,  after  which  he 
picked  suitable  lumps  of  coal  out  of  the  scuttle 
and  tied  them  up  into  neat  little  paper  packets, 
half  a  dozen  of  which  he  presently  handed 
through  the  door  to  Dolly.  I  suppose  she 
placed  them  noiselessly  on  the  fire  in  Phillis's 
room,  but  we  heard  no  sound. 

It  was  a  bitterly  cold  night,  and  outside  the 


"To  Die — will  be  an  Adventure!"     267 

snow  was  lying  thick ;  so  Robin  busied  himself 
with  preparing  other  little  packets  of  coal,  and 
at  intervals  throughout  the  long  night  he  passed 
them  through  the  door  to  the  tireless  Dolly. 

Various  sounds  came  from  within.  Occasion- 
ally the  child  suffered  spasms  of  pain,  and  we 
could  hear  her  crying.  Then  all-wise  Nature 
would  grant  the  sorely  tried  little  body  a  rest 
at  the  expense  of  the  mind  that  ruled  it,  and 
poor  Phillis  would  drop  into  a  sort  of  rambling 
delirium,  through  which  we  perforce  accom- 
panied her,  At  one  time  she  would  be  wan- 
dering through  some  Elysian  field  of  her  own ; 
we  heard  her  calling  her  mates  and  proposing  all 
manner  of  attractive  games.  (Even  "  Beckoning  " 
was  included.  Once  I  distinctly  heard  her 
"  choose "  me. )  But  more  often  she  was  in 
deadly  fear.  Her  solitary  little  spirit  was  too 
plainly  beset  by  those  nameless  ghosts  that 
haunt  the  borderland  separating  the  realms  of 
Death  from  those  of  his  brother  Sleep.  Once 
her  voice  rose  to  a  scream. 

"Uncle  Kobin!  It's  the  Kelpie!  Stop  it! 
It's  coming — it's  breaving  on  me  !  Uncle  Robin ! 
oh !" 

I  looked  at  Robin.  He  was  sitting  gripping 
the  arms  of  his  chair,  with  every  muscle  in  his 


268  The  Finished  Article 

body  rigid ;  and  I  knew  that  he,  like  myself, 
was  praying  God  to  strike  down  the  cowardly 
devil  that  would  torment  a  child. 

Then  I  heard,  for  the  first  time  that  night, 
the  soothing  murmur  of  Kitty's  voice. 

"It's  all  right,  dearie.  Mother  is  holding 
you  fast.  It  shan't  hurt  you.  There,  it's  run- 
ning away  now,  isn't  it  ?  See  !  " 

Kitty's  tones  would  have  lightened  the  tor- 
ments of  the  Pit,  and  Phillis's  cries  presently 
died  down  to  an  uneasy  whisper.  After  a 
sudden  and  curiously  pathetic  little  outburst 
of  singing, — chiefly  a  jumble  of  scraps  from  such 
old  favourites  as  "Onward,  Christian  Sailors!" 
— there  was  silence  again,  and  the  Cathedral 
chimed  out  half-past  four. 

Shortly  after  this  the  doctor  came  out  of 
the  room  with  a  message  from  Kitty  that  I 
ought  to  be  in  bed.  Evidently  Dolly  had  told 
her  about  me. 

"How  is  she  now,  doctor?"  I  whispered, 
disregarding  the  command. 

"  Up  and  down,  up  and  down.  She  is  making 
a  brave  fight  of  it,  poor  lassie,  but  we  can  do 
little  at  present  except  stand  by  and  give  relief 
when  the  bad  fits  come." 

"  May  I  go  in  and  see  her  ?  " 


"To  Die — will  be  an  Adventure!"     269 

"  No,  no !  You  could  do  no  good,  and  she 
might  be  frightened  if  she  caught  sight  of  a 
large  dim  figure  in  the  dark.  Leave  it  to  the 
women,  and  thank  God  for  them.  Hark ! " 

Phillis  was  back  in  Elysium  again. 

"  Who's  been  eating  my  porridge  ? "  said  a 
gruff  little  voice.  Then  came  a  rapturous  shriek. 
Evidently  the  Little  Bear  had  caught  Curly 
Locks  in  his  bed.  We  sat  listening,  while  the 
game  ended  and  another  followed  in  its  place. 
Suddenly  she  began  to  sing  again — 

"Then  three  times  round  went  that  gallant  ship, 

And  three  times  round  went  she  ; 
Then  three  times  round  went  that  gallant  ship, 
And — sank — to  the — bottom  of  the  sea — ea — ee — " 

There    was    a    little    wailing    rallentando,    and 
silence. 

"Philly,  Philly,  don't!"  It  was  the  only 
time  that  night  that  Kitty  gave  any  sign  of 
breaking  down.  The  doctor  hurried  back  into 

o 

the  room.     The  clock  struck  five. 

After  that  there  was  a  very  long  silence. 
It  must  have  lasted  nearly  an  hour.  Then 
Dolly  tiptoed  out  to  us. 

"  She's  asleep,"  she  whispered.  "  He  says  she's 
a  shade  better.  I  want  another  coal-packet." 


270  The  Finished  Article 

She  took  what  Robin  gave  her,  and  faded 
away. 

After  that  I  think  we  dozed  in  our  chairs. 
The  next  thing  I  remember  was  a  knock  at 
the  outer  door.  I  opened  my  heavy  eyes  and 
stirred  my  stiff  joints.  The  Boots  put  his  head 
in,  and  I  realised  it  was  daylight. 

"  Half-past  eight,  sir.  Mr  Cash  is  waiting 
downstairs.  Poll's  been  open  half  an  hour,  he 
says." 


271 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

TWO   BATTLES. 

BEFORE  I  left  the  hotel  I  struck  a  bargain  with 

o 

Cash.  I  would  go  anywhere  and  do  anything, 
but  he  was  to  give  me  a  written  itinerary  of  my 
movements  for  the  day,  clearly  stating  where  I 
should  be  at  various  times.  This  document  I 
left  in  the  hands  of  Dolly,  who  promised  faith- 
fully to  send  for  me,  if — if  necessary. 

Then,  putting  my  paternal  instincts  into  my 
pocket,  I  braced  myself  up  and  plunged  into 
the  vortex  of  polling -day. 

Truly,  if  Time  is  the  healer,  Work  is  the 
anaesthetic.  In  the  turmoil  of  the  crowded 
streets  and  polling  -  booths,  I  found  myself 
almost  as  enthusiastic  and  whole  -  hearted  as 
if  no  little  girl  of  mine  were  fighting  for  life 
in  a  darkened  room  not  many  streets  away. 
I  shook  hands  with  countless  folk,  I  addressed 
meetings  of  the  unwashed  at  street  corners, 


272  The  Finished  Article 

and  received  the  plaudits  or  execrations  of  the 
multitude  with  equal  serenity. 

Robin  hastened  away  to  the  Hide-and-Tallow 
Works,  whence,  during  the  dinner -hour,  he 
charmed  many  an  oleaginous  elector  to  come 
and  plump  for  Inglethwaite,  the  Man  Whom 
He  Knew  and  Who  Knew  Him.  Gerald  and 
Donkin,  smothered  in  violets  and  primroses, 
were  personally  conducting  a  sort  of  tumbril, 
which  dashed  across  my  field  of  vision  from 
time  to  time,  sometimes  full,  sometimes  empty, 
but  always  at  full  gallop. 

Election  "  incidents  "  were  plentiful.  I  was 
standing  in  the  principal  polling  -  station  at 
one  time,  when  a  gentleman  called  Hoppett,  a 
cobbler  by  persuasion — I  think  I  have  already 
mentioned  him  as  the  benignant  individual  who 
used  to  come  to  the  door  of  his  establishment 
and  pursue  me  with  curses  down  the  street — 
came  out  from  recording  his  vote.  He  did 
not  see  me,  but  caught  sight  of  Robin,  who 
had  just  arrived  with  a  posse  of  electors,  and 
was  standing  by  the  Returning  Officer's  table. 
Hobbling  up,  the  cobbler  shook  a  gnarled  fist 
under  my  secretary's  nose. 

"  I've  voted  against  your  man,"  he  shouted. 
"We're  goin'  to  be  rid  of  the  lot  of  you  this 


Two  Battles  273 

time.  Set  of  reskils !  .  .  .  I've  put  my  mark 
against  Stridge,  I  have ;  and  against  Ingle- 
thwaite's  name  I've  put  a  picture  of  a  big  boot 
—one  of  my  own  making,  too  !  The  big  boot ! " 
he  screamed  ecstatically  —  "  that's  what  your 
man  is  a-going  to  get  to-day.  Set  of ' 

Robin  smiled  benignantly  upon  him,  and 
glanced  at  the  Returning  Officer. 

"  You  hear  what  this  gentleman  says  ? "  he 
remarked. 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  official. 

"  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  he  has  annulled  his  vote 
by  making  unnecessary  marks  on  his  voting- 
paper  ? "  continued  Robin  solemnly. 

"That  is  so,"  assented  the  Returning  Officer. 
"  I'm  afraid  your  vote  won't  count  this  time, 
Mr  Hoppett.  Good  morning ! " 

There  was  a  roar  of  delighted  laughter  from 
friend  and  foe,  and  the  fermenting  Hoppett 
was  cast  forth. 

I  succeeded  in  getting  back  to  the  hotel  for 
ten  minutes  at  luncheon-time.  Dolly  met  me 
— pale,  sleepless,  but  unbeaten. 

"  The  doctor  is  with  her  just  now,"  she  said. 
"  She  has  been  in  fearful  pain,  poor  kiddy ;  but 
he  has  given  her  a  drug  of  some  sort,  and  she 
is  easier  now." 

8 


274  The  Finished  Article 

"  Couldn't  I  see  her,  just  a  moment  ? "  I  said 
wistfully. 

"  The  answer  to  that  question,  sir,"  replied 
Dolly,  "is  in  the  negative." 

We  both  smiled  resolutely  at  this  familiar 
tag,  and  Dolly  concluded — 

"  Kitty  is  lying  down.  I  made  her,  But 
she  is  going  to  get  up  when  they — I  mean " 

I  detected  a  curious  confusion  in  her  voice. 

"  When  what  ?  *  I  asked. 

"  Nothing." 

I  surveyed  my  sister-in-law  uneasily 

"  Are  they  expecting — a  crisis,  then  ? " 

"  Yes — a  sort  of  a  one." 

"When?" 

Dolly  seemed  to  consider. 

"  About  five,"  she  said. 

"Hadn't  I  better  be  near,  in  case ?" 

"  Where  are  you  to  be  this  afternoon  ? " 

"  Hunnable." 

Dolly  nodded  her  head  reflectively. 
. "  When  can  you  be  back  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  can  do  it  by  five,  I  should  think." 

"  That  will  be  soon  enough.  The  doctor  said 
that  if — you  were  wanted,  it  would  be  about 
then.  Good-bye,  old  gentleman  ! " 

"Good-bye,    Dolly!      Mind   you   go   to   bed." 


Two  Battles  275 

(We  seem  to  have  spent  a  large  portion  of 
that  twenty -four  hours  urging  each  other  to 
go  to  bed.) 

Then  I  went  back  to  work. 

Polling  had  been  brisk  during  the  dinner- 
hour,  and  both  Cash  and  Robin  considered  that 
we  were  doing  fairly  well.  Things  would  be 
slack  at  Stoneleigh  itself  during  the  afternoon, 
and  the  obvious  and  politic  course  now  was 
to  drive  over  to  the  fishing  village  of  Hunnable 
— I  had  only  time  for  one,  and  this  was  the 
most  considerable — and  catch  my  marine  con- 
stituents as  they  emerged  from  the  ocean, 
Proteus-like,  between  three  and  four  o'clock. 

I  did  so,  and  for  the  space  of  an  hour  and 
a  half  I  solicited  the  patronage  of  innumerable 
tarry  mariners,  until  their  horny  hands  had 
filled  up  the  voting -papers  and  my  own  smelt 
to  heaven  of  fish.  It  was  a  quarter  to  five, 
and  dark,  before  I  escaped  from  the  attentions 
of  a  small  but  pertinacious  group  of  inquirers 
who  wanted  to  understand  my  exact  attitude 
on  the  question  of  trawling  within  the  three- 
mile  limit,  and  proceeded  at  a  hand  -  gallop 
back  to  Stoneleigh.  (That  odoriferous  but 
popular  vehicle,  the  motor-car,  was  still  in  the 
preceded  -  by  -  a  -  man  -  ten  -  yards  -  in  -  front  -  bearing- 


276  The  Finished  Article 

a-red-flag  stage  in  those  days,  and  we  had  to 
rely  on  that  antiquated  but  much  more  reliable 
medium  of  transport,  the  horse.)  The  snow 
lay  very  heavily  in  places,  and  our  progress 
was  not  over -rapid.  Moreover,  passing  the 
central  Committee  Rooms  on  my  way  to  the 
hotel,  I  was  stopped  and  haled  within  to  con- 
ciliate various  wobblers,  and  another  twenty 
minutes  of  precious  time  sped.  But  I  stuck  to 
my  determination  to  let  nothing  interfere  with 
duty  that  day,  and  I  argued  with  free-thinkers 
and  pump-handled  bemused  supporters  until  all 
was  settled  and  Cash  said  I  might  go. 

Still,  it  was  nearer  six  than  five  when  my 
panting  horses  drew  up  at  the  Cathedral  Arms. 

There  was  no  Dolly  to  receive  me  this  time, 
but  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  leading  to  our 
rooms  I  met  the  doctor.  He  was  accompanied 
by  a  grey-haired,  kind-eyed  old  gentleman  in 
a  frock-coat,  with  "  London  Specialist "  written 
all  over  him.  It  was  Sir  James  Fordyce. 

"  Well  ? "  I  asked  feverishly  as  I  shook  bands. 

The  two  men  motioned  me  into  the  sitting- 
room,  and  Farquharson  said,  in  a  curiously 
uncertain  fashion — 

"  Mr  Inglethwaite,  we  have  done  a  thing 
which  should  not,  properly,  have  been  done 


Two  Battles  277 

without  your  consent.  Your  secretary  suggested 
the  idea,  and  I  agreed.  Mrs  Inglethwaite  made 
a  point  of  our  saying  nothing  to  you,  and  volun- 
teered to  take  all  responsibility  on  herself.  She 
said  you  were  not  to  be  worried.  So  I  wired  for 
Sir  James 

"  I  see,"  I  said,  "  and  he  operated  ? " 

"  Yes,  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon.  Indeed, 
your  sister-in-law,  I  think,  purposely  concealed 
from  you " 

"  She  did."  That,  then,  was  the  "  crisis  "  that 
Dolly  had  in  her  mind,  and  that,  too,  was  why 
she  had  told  me  to  come  back  at  five — when 
everything  would  be  well  over ! 

I  continued — 

"And  how  have  you — I  mean — is  she—  — ?" 

"  The  operation,"  said  the  old  man,  "  was  en- 
tirely successful,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  most 
necessary.  But  of  course  for  so  young  a  patient 
the  strain  was  terrible." 

"  How  is  she  ? " 

"  She  came  through  finely,  but  I  do  not  conceal 
from  you  the  fact  that  her  life  hangs  by  a  thread." 

I  had  a  premonition  that  something  was  going 
to  be  "  broken  "  to  me.  I  dropped  into  a  chair, 
and  waited  dully.  Then  I  felt  a  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  and  Sir  James  continued — 


278  The  Finished  Article 

"  Just  weakness,  you  understand !  Her  ex- 
haustion when  she  came  out  of  the  chloroform 
was  extreme,  but  every  moment  now  is  in  our 
favour.  Children  have  such  extraordinary  re- 
cuperative power." 

He  was  speaking  in  the  usual  cheery  tones  of 
the  bedside  optimist.  I  raised  my  head. 

"Tell  me  straight,  Sir  James — will  the  child 
live?" 

The  old  man's  grip  on  my  shoulder  tightened 
just  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  in 
an  entirely  unprofessional  voice. 

"  Thanks  to  two  of  the  bravest  and  most 
devoted  of  women,"  he  said,  "  I  think  she  will." 

I  dropped  my  head  into  my  hands. 

"  Please  God  ! "  I  murmured  brokenly. 

"  Of  course,"  he  continued,  "  anything  may 
happen  yet.  But  the  way  in  which  she  has 
been  cared  for  by  my  good  friend  here " 

"No,  no,"  said  Farquharson.  "Give  the 
credit  to  those  that  deserve  it.  I  just  afforded 
ordinary  professional  assistance.  It  was  your 
wife  and  her  sister,  Mr  Inglethwaite,  that  pulled 
the  child  through.  She  has  had  tight  hold  of  a 
hand  of  one  of  them  ever  since  ten  o'clock  last 
night." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sir  James ;   "  I  think  it  will   be 


Two  Battles  279 

found  that  their  nursing  has  just  made  the 
difference.  You  had  better  give  him  something, 
Farquharson." 

In  truth  I  needed  something,  though  up  to 
this  point  I  had  not  realised  the  fact.  Farquhar- 
son gave  me  a  draught  out  of  a  little  glass, 
which  sent  a  steadying  glow  all  through  me, 
and  presently  I  was  able  to  shake  hands,  dumbly 
and  mechanically,  with  the  great  surgeon,  who, 
I  found,  was  bidding  me  good-bye ;  for  the  world 
is  full  of  sick  folk,  and  their  champion  may  not 
stay  to  see  the  issue  of  one  battle  before  he  must 
hurry  off  to  fight  another. 

They  left  me  to  myself,  while  Farquharson  went 
down  to  the  door  with  Sir  James.  Presently  he 
returned. 

"I  must  be  getting  back  to  the  patient 
shortly,"  he  said.  "The  next  hour  or  so  will 
be  very  critical.  The  nurse  is  here,  and  I  have 
sent  the  ladies  to  bed.  But  you  may  go  in  for 
a  look,  if  you  like.  I  am  going  out  for  exactly 
ten  minutes." 

"  I  see — a  breather.     You  deserve  it." 

"  Not  exactly.    I'm  going  to  vote — for  Stridge!" 

He  chuckled  in  a  marvellously  cheering  way, 
and  left  me. 

As    I    approached    Phillis's     room     the    door 


280  The  Finished  Article 

opened,  and  I  was  confronted  with  that  most 
soothing  and  comforting  of  sights  to  a  sick  man 
— a  nurse's  uniform.  She  was  a  pleasant -faced 
girl,  I  remember,  and  she  was  carrying  a  basin 
full  of  sponges  and  water,  cruelly  tinged. 

"  Just  a  peep ! "  she  said,  with  that  little  air 
of  motherly  sternness  which  all  women,  however 
young,  adopt  towards  fractious  children  and 
helpless  males. 

She  closed  the  door  very  softly  upon  me,  and 
left  me  alone. 

For  a  moment  I  stood  uncertain  in  the 
shadow  of  the  screen  that  guarded  the  door. 
There  was  a  whiff  of  chloroform  in  the  air,  and 
through  the  doorway  leading  to  the  room  where 
we  had  sat  throughout  the  previous  night  I  could 
see  the  end  of  a  white -covered  table.  Thank 
God,  that  part  of  the  business  was  over ! 

A  shaded  lamp  burned  at  Phillis's  bedside. 
She  lay  deathly  still,  an  attenuated  little  derelict 
amid  an  ocean  of  white  bed-clothes. 

At  first  I  thought  I  was  alone  with  the  child, 
and  was  moving  softly  forward  when  I  became 
suddenly  aware  that  some  one  was  kneeling  at 
the  far  side  of  the  bed.  It  was  Kitty.  Evidently 
she  had  not  obeyed  the  doctor's  orders  about 
going  to  bed. 


Two  Battles  281 

A  single  ray  from  the  lamp  fell  upon  her  face. 
Her  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
looking  straight  at  me.  Her  lips  were  moving, 
and  I  became  aware  that  she  was  speaking,  very 
earnestly  and  almost  inaudibly. 

I  stood  still  to  hear  her.  Then  I  realised  that 
her  words  were  not  addressed  to  me.  Very  care- 
fully I  stepped  back  to  the  door-handle,  turned 
it,  and  slipped  out. 


282 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN. 

"QUI    PERD,    GAGNE." 

ONCE  more  I  was  back  in  the  thick  of  it  all, 
and  till  the  closing  of  the  poll  at  eight  o'clock 
I  strove,  in  company  with  Cash,  Robin,  and 
others,  to  direct  the  inclinations  of  my  con- 
stituents into  the  proper  channels. 

The  tumult  increased  as  the  evening  advanced. 
More  snow  had  fallen  during  the  afternoon, 
and  outlying  electors  were  being  conveyed  to 
the  scene  of  action  with  the  utmost  difficulty. 
People  were  voting  at  seven  o'clock  who  had 
intended  to  get  it  done  and  be  home  by  six ; 
and  as  time  wore  on  it  was  seen  that  there 
would  be  a  desperate  rush  of  business  right  up 
till  closing  time. 

Every  one  was  in  high  spirits.  That  potent 
factor  in  British  politics,  the  electioneering  egg, 
had  been  entirely  superseded  by  the  snowball, 
and  the  youth  of  Stoneleigh,  massed  in  the 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  283 

public  square  outside  the  Town  Hall,  were 
engaged,  with  a  lofty  indifference  to  party  dis- 
tinctions that  would  have  been  sublime  if  it 
had  not  been  so  painful,  in  an  untrammelled 
bombardment  of  all  who  crossed  their  path. 

At  length  the  Cathedral  chimed  out  the  hour 
of  eight,  and  the  poll  closed.  Cash  hurried  up 
to  me. 

"  It's  going  to  be  a  desperately  close  thing," 
he  said.  "  The  counting  will  begin  at  once,  in 
the  Mayor's  room  on  the  first  floor  of  the  Town 
Hall.  The  outlying  boxes  should  be  in  by  half- 
past  nine  at  the  latest,  and  the  result  should 
be  out  by  about  eleven.  You'll  come  and  watch 
the  counting,  I  suppose." 

But  there  are  limits  to  human  endurance. 

"  Mr  Cash,"  I  said,  buttoning  my  overcoat  up 
to  my  ears  as  a  preliminary  to  an  encounter 
with  the  budding  statesmen  outside,  "  I  think 
I  have  got  to  the  end  of  my  day's  work. 
Nothing  can  affect  the  result  now,  and  I'm 
going  home — that's  flat.  Good-night ! " 

"  Surely  you're  coming  to  hear  the  result 
announced,"  wailed  Cash.  "There's  the  vote  of 
thanks  to  the  Eeturning  Officer.  You'll  have 
to  propose  that — or  second  it,"  he  added  grimly. 

"Well,   I'll  see.     But  I  think,  now  that  the 


284  The  Finished  Article 

poll  is  closed,  that  my  duty  lies  elsewhere,"  I 
said.  "  If  I  am  really  wanted,  send  word  by 
Mr  Fordyce." 

Five  minutes  later,  and  I  was  once  more  at 
the  Cathedral  Arms.  The  ground  floor  of  that 
hostelry  hummed  like  a  hive,  and  the  bar  and 
smoking-room  were  filled  to  overflowing  with 
supporters  of  both  sides,  who  were  prudently 
avoiding  all  risk  of  disappointment  by  celebrat- 
ing the  result  of  the  election  in  advance. 

I  pushed  my  way  through  a  group  of  en- 
thusiastic patriots — many  of  them  in  that  con- 
dition once  described  to  me  by  a  sporting 
curate  as  "  holding  two  or  three  firkins  apiece " 
— who  crowded  round  me,  fired  with  a  desire 
to  drink  success  to  the  British  Constitution — a 
rash  shibboleth,  by  the  way,  for  gentlemen  in 
their  situation  to  attempt  to  enunciate  at  all— 
at  my  expense,  and  hastened  upstairs  to  our 
wing. 

In  the  passage  I  met  the  nurse.  She  greeted 
me  with  a  little  smile ;  but  I  was  mistrustful 
of  professional  cheerfulness  that  night. 

"  Will  you  tell  Mrs  Inglethwaite  or  Miss 
Rubislaw  that  I  have  come  in,  please?"  I  said, 
and  turned  into  the  sitting-room. 

The  sight  of  a  snug  room  or  a  bright  fire  or 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  285 

a  colossal  arm-chair  is  always  comforting  to  a 
weary  man,  even  though  his  thoughts  admit  of 
little  rest.  I  sank  down  amid  these  comforts, 
and  closed  my  eyes.  Now  that  my  long  day's 
play-acting  was  over,  and  nothing  mattered  any 
more,  I  began  to  realise  how  great  the  strain 
had  been.  I  was  utterly  done.  I  had  no  clear 
recollection  of  having  tasted  food  since  break- 
fast, but  I  was  not  hungry.  All  I  wanted  was 
to  be  left  in  peace.  Even  the  sickening  anxiety 
about  Phillis  had  died  down  to  a  sort  of  dull 
ache.  In  a  few  minutes  a  too -wakeful  mind 
struggled  with  an  exhausted  body.  I  wondered 
dimly  when  somebody  would  come  and  tell  me 
how  Phifly  was.  Perhaps  — 

I  fell  asleep. 

I  was  awakened  by  the  consciousness  of  a 
second  presence  in  my  arm-chair,  which  was  a 
roomy  one  of  the  saddle-bag  variety.  It  was 
Kitty.  Presently  I  became  aware  that  she  was 
crying,  softly,  as  women  usually  do, — men  gulp 
noisily,  because  they  have  lost  control  of  them- 
selves, and  children  wail,  chiefly  to  attract 
attention, — but  so  softly  on  this  occasion  that 
I  knew  she  was  trying  to  avoid  disturbing  me. 

It  had  happened,  then. 

Well,    obviously,    this    was    one    of   the    rare 


286  The  Finished  Article 

occasions  upon  which  a  husband  can  be  of  some 
use  to  his  wife.  I  sat  up,  and  made  a  clumsy 
effort  at  a  caress. 

"We've  still  got  each  other,"  I  said,  rather 
brokenly. 

Kitty  positively  laughed. 

"  Adrian,  you  don't  understand.  Philly  roused 
up  for  a  few  minutes  about  eight  o'clock, — very 
piano,  poor  mite,  but  almost  herself, — and  then 
dropped  off  into  a  beautiful  sleep,  bless  her ! 
The  doctor  has  gone  home  and  left  the  nurse 
in  charge.  He  says  things  should  be  all  right 
now.  Oh,  Adrian,  Adrian  ! " 

And  my  wife  sobbed  afresh. 

"  Then  what  the  —  what  on  earth  are  you 
crying  for  ? "  I  demanded. 

"I  don't  know,  dear,"  said  Kitty,  without 
making  any  attempt  to  stop.  "  I'm  so  happy  ! " 

Really,  women  are  the  most  extraordinary 
creatures.  Here  was  I,  after  the  labour  and 
anxiety  of  the  last  twenty -four  hours,  ready 
to  shout  for  joy.  I  was  no  longer  tired :  I 
felt  as  if  my  day's  work  had  never  been.  I 
wanted  to  sing — to  dance — to  give  three  cheers 
in  a  whisper.  And  my  wife,  after  giving  me 
a  very  bad  fright,  was  sitting  celebrating  our 
victory  by  a  flood  of  tears  and  other  phenomena 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  287 

usually  attributed  by  the  masculine  mind  to 
unfathomable  woe.  It  was  all  very  perplexing, 
and  I  felt  a  trifle  ill-used;  but  I  suppose  it 
was  one  of  the  things  that  mark  the  difference 
between  a  man  and  a  woman. 

After  that  we  sat  long  and  comfortably.  Our 
conversation  need  not  be  set  down  here,  for  it 
has  no  bearing  on  this  chronicle. 

Finally  we  looked  at  the  clock,  and  then  at 
each  other. 

"  We  must  have  been  sitting  here  a  long  time," 
I  said.  "  I  wonder  where  the  others  are." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Kitty,  "  Dilly  and  Dicky 
have  arrived.  Robin  and  Dolly  wired  for  them 
this  morning.  They  may  be  upstairs  any  mo- 
ment. They  were  having  supper  in  the  coffee- 
room  when  last  I  saw  them."  She  patted  her 
hair.  "  Do  I  look  an  awful  fright  ?  " 

I  turned  in  the  restricted  space  at  my  com- 
mand and  surveyed  her. 

"  Do  my  eyes  look  wet  ?  "  she  inquired,  feeling 
in  my  pocket  for  my  handkerchief. 

Kitty  has  large  grey  eyes.  Once,  during  the 
most  desperate  period  of  our  courtship,  I  referred 
to  them  as  "twin  lakes" — an  indiscretion  which 
their  owner,  in  her  less  generous  moments,  still 
casts  up  to  me.  But  to-night  the  territory 


288  The  Finished  Article 

surrounding  them  presented  a  distinct  appear- 
ance of  inundation.  I  continued  to  gaze.  I 
thought  of  last  night's  ceaseless  vigil  and  to- 
day's long-drawn  battle.  My  wife  had  borne 
the  brunt  of  all,  and  I  had  grudged  her  a  few 
tears !  My  heart  smote  me. 

"Kit!"  I  said  suddenly;  "poor  Kit!"   ... 

We  were  interrupted  by  the  opening  of  the 
door  and  the  entrance  of  what  I  at  first  took 
to  be  a  chimney-sweep's  apprentice,  but  which 
proved  to  be  my  brother-in-law,  with  evidence 
of  electoral  strenuousness  written  thick  upon  him. 

"  Hallo,  you  two ! "  he  remarked  genially. 
Then,  noticing  our  unconventional  economy  of 
sitting  -  space  —  "  Sorry  !  I  didn't  know.  I 
thought  you'd  given  up  that  sort  of  thing 
years  ago ! " 

I  rose  and  shook  myself. 

"  Come  in,  my  son,"  I  said. 

"  Righto  ! "  replied  Gerald.  Then  he  addressed 
himself  to  a  figure  which,  with  true  delicacy  of 
feeling,  had  shrunk  back  into  the  passage  outside. 

"  Come  in,  Moke,  old  man.  I've  got  them 
separated  now ! " 

The  discreet  Master  Donkin  sidled  respectfully 
in  at  the  door,  and  Gerald  continued. 

"  Moke  and  I  would  like  to  say  how  pleased 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  289 

we  are  to  hear  about  Phillis,"  he  said,  rather 
awkwardly  for  him.  "We  have  just  got  to 
hear  how  really  bad  she's  been." 

The  resolution  was  seconded  by  a  confirmatory 
mumble  from  Master  Donkin. 

"  We  met  the  nurse  just  now,"  continued 
Gerald,  "  and  she  told  us  about  the  operation, 
and  all  that.  It  must  have  been  a  pretty  thick 
day  for  you,  Adrian.  And  you're  looking  pretty 
rotten,  too,  Kitty,"  he  added  with  brotherly 
directness.  "But  do  you  people  know  what 
time  it  is?  Half -past  eleven,  nearly.  The 
result  should  be  out  any  minute.  Aren't  you 
coming  to  the  Town  Hall?  They'll  want  you 
to  make  a  speech,  or  get  egged,  or  something." 

I  looked  at  my  watch. 

"  Well,  there's  no  particular  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  go — now"  I  said.  "  What  do  you 
say,  Kitty  ?  Hark  !  What's  that  ? " 

"  That's  the  result,  I  expect,"  said  my  brother- 
in-law. 

We  drew  up  the  blind  and  opened  the  window. 
The  moon  was  shining  brightly,  and  threw  the 
monstrous  shadow  of  the  Cathedral  very  blackly 
upon  the  untrodden  snow  of  the  peaceful  Close. 
Through  the  clear  night  air  came  the  sound  of 
frenzied  cheering. 


290  The  Finished  Article 

"That's  it,  right  enough,"  said  Gerald.  "I 
wonder  if  you've  got  the  chuck,  my  bonny  boy." 

"  Ugh  !     It  is  cold  !     Come  in,"  said  Kitty. 

We  shut  the  window,  drew  down  the  blind, 
returned  to  the  fire,  and  waited.  Dolly  joined 
us  now,  and  Kitty  vanished  to  sit  by  Phillis. 
We  waited  on.  Somehow  it  never  occurred  to 
us  to  send  downstairs  for  news.  I  suppose 
there  are  times  when  the  human  craving  for 
sensation  is  sated.  We  sat  and  waited. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and,  as  I  expected, 
Robin  entered.  He  looked  like  a  man  who  has 
not  been  to  bed  for  a  week.  He  shut  the  door 
softly  behind  him — evidently  he  feared  he  might 
be  entering  a  house  of  mourning — and  surveyed 
us  for  a  moment  without  speaking.  I  knew 
what  was  in  his  mind.  Then  he  said* — 

"We  have  lost." 

I  stood  up. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  I  replied,  "  we  have  won." 

In  a  bound  Robin  was  on  the  hearth-rug, 
gripping  my  hand  with  his.  (His  other  had 
somehow  got  hold  of  one  of  Dolly's,  and  I 
remember  wondering  if  he  was  hurting  her  as 
much  as  me.) 

"  You  mean  it  ?  "  he  roared, 

"  I  do.     She  is  sleeping  like  a  lamb." 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  291 

"  Oh,  man,  I'm  just  glad !  What  does  any- 
thing matter  after  that  ? " 

Then  we  sat  down  and  smiled  upon  each  other 
largely  and  vacuously.  We  were  all  a  little  un- 
strung that  night,  I  think.  After  all,  it  seems 
rather  unreasonable  to  lavish  one's  time,  labour, 
and  money  on  an  electoral  contest,  and  then 
laugh  when  you  lose,  and  say  it  doesn't  matter, 
just  because  a  child  isn't  going  to  die.  Oh,  I 
am  glad  Mr  Cash  was  not  there ! 

"  But  I  must  tell  you  what  happened  when 
the  result  was  read  out,"  said  Robin.  "  It  was 
a  near  thing — a  majority  of  twenty-seven,  (I 
don't  think  it  is  worth  while  to  ask  for  a 
recount :  everything  was  done  very  carefully.) 
When  the  figures  went  up  there  was  the  usual 
hullabaloo " 

"  We  heard  it,  thanks,"  said  Gerald. 

"And  presently  Stridge  stepped  out  on  to 
the  balcony  and  bowed  his  acknowledgments. 
There  was  a  lot  more  yelling  and  horn-blowing, 
and  then  they  began  to  cry  out  for  Inglethwaite." 

"  Naturally.     Yes  ? " 

"  They  were  quiet  at  last,  and  Stridge  got 
his  speech  in.  He  talked  the  usual  blethers 
about  having  struck  a  blow  that  night  that 
would  ring  through  England, — just  what  you 


292  The  Finished  Article 

would  have  had  to  say  if  you  had  got  in,  in 
fact, — and  then  he  went  on,  the  old  sumph,  to 
say  that  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself  his 
honourable  opponent  had  seen  fit  to  withhold 
his  presence  from  them  that  night,  and  he 
begged  leave  to  add  that  he  considered  that 
a  man,  even  though  he  knew  he  was  going  to 
be  beaten,  ought  to  have  the  pluck  to  come 
and  face  the  music." 

"  Mangy  bounder  ! "  remarked  my  brother-in- 
law  dispassionately. 

"  Oh,  I  was  just  raging ! "  continued  Robin. 
"  The  people  of  course  yelled  themselves  hoarse ; 
and  Stridge  was  going  on  to  rub  it  into  you, 
when  I  stepped  on  to  the  balcony  beside  him — 
I  had  been  standing  just  inside  the  window — 
and  I  put  my  hand  on  Stridge's  fat  shoulder  and 
I  pulled  him  back  a  wee  thing,  and  I  roared— 

"  *  Gentlemen,  will  you  not  let  me  say  a  word 
for  Mr  Inglethwaite  ? ' " 

Dolly's  eyes  began  to  blaze,  and  I  saw  her 
lips  part  in  anticipation. 

"  There  was  a  tremendous  uproar  then,"  Robin 
went  on  with  relish.  "  The  folk  howled  to 
Stridge  to  put  me  over  the  balcony 

"  I  wish  he  had  tried ! "  said  Gerald  with 
simple  fervour. 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  293 

"  And  other  folk  cried  to  me  to  go  on.  They 
knew  there  must  be  some  explanation  of  your 
absence.  I  just  stood  there  and  let  them  roar. 
Inside  the  room  there  was  a  fine  commotion ; 
and  with  the  tail  of  my  eye  I  could  see  Cash 
hurrying  round  explaining  to  them  what  I 
wanted  to  say.  (He  has  his  points,  Cash !) 
Then  at  last,  as  the  noise  got  worse  and  worse, 
I  put  my  mouth  to  Stridge's  ear  and  bellowed 
that  he  would  regret  it  all  his  life  if  he  didn't 
let  me  say  what  I  had  to  say,  and  that  he 
would  be  grateful  to  me  afterwards,  and  all 
that.  He  is  a  decent  old  buffer,  really,  and 
he  was  evidently  impressed  with  what  I 
said " 

"  I  should  like  to  know  exactly  what  you  did 
say,  Robin,"  I  interpolated. 

"  Never  mind  just  now.  Anyhow,  he  turned 
and  clambered  back  into  the  room,  and  left  me 
with  the  crowd.  They  were  soon  quiet,  and 
I  just  told  them." 

Robin  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"Told  them  what?"  came  from  all  parts  of 
the  room. 

But  Robin  had  become  suddenly  and  madden- 
ingly Caledonian  again. 

"I  just    told    them    about   Philly,"   he   said. 


294  The  Finished  Article 

"  What  else  could  I  do  ?  It  wasn't  like  telling 
them  during  the  election.  That  would  have 
been  an  appeal  to  the  gallery  for  votes.  This 
was  just  common  justice  to  you.  Anyhow,  they 
quite  quietened  down  after  that." 

And  that  was  all  the  report  that  its  author 
ever  gave  us  of  a  speech  which,  in  the  space 
of  four  minutes,  turned  a  half-maddened  election 
mob  into  a  silent,  a  sympathetic,  and  (I  heard 
afterwards)  a  deeply  moved  body  of  sober  human 
beings. 

"What  happened  next?'"'  asked  Kitty,  who 
had  rejoined  us.  (Phillis  was  still  sleeping 
sweetly,  she  said.) 

"After  that  I  hauled  old  Stridge  on  to  the 
balcony  again  and  gave  him  a  congratulatory 
hand-shake,  coram  populo,  on  your  behalf.  Then 
I  retired  and  slipped  out  by  a  back  way  and 
came  here.  Stridge  was  in  full  eruption  again 
when  I  left " 

Dolly  held  up  her  hand. 

"  What  is  that  curious  noise '( "  she  said. 

"  It's  outside,"  said  Kitty. 

Gerald  went  to  the  window  and  lifted  the 
blind.  Then  he  turned  to  us. 

"  I  say,"  he  said  in  an  unusual  voice,  "  come 
here  a  minute." 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  295 

We  drew  up  the  blind  and  surveyed  the  scene 
before  us. 

Two  minutes  before  the  moon  had  shone  upon 
an  untrodden  expanse  of  snow.  Now  the  Close 
was  black  with  people.  There  must  have  been 
two  or  three  thousand.  They  stood  there  in  the 
gleaming  moonlight,  silent,  motionless,  like  an 
army  of  phantoms.  At  their  head  and  fore- 
front— I  could  see  the  moonlight  glitter  on  his 
watch-chain,  which  lay  in  a  most  favourable 
position  for  lunar  reflection  —  stood  the  newly 
elected  Member  for  Stoneleigh,  Mr  Alderman 
Stridge. 

Simultaneously  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  the  hall-porter  of  the  hotel  appeared. 

"  Mr  Stridge's  compliments,  sir,  and  he  would 
like  to  have  a  word  with  you." 

"  Go  down  quickly,  Adrian,"  said  Kitty 
anxiously.  "They'll  wake  Philly!" 

I  descended  without  a  word,  and  passed  out 
into  the  Close  from  a  French  window  on  the 
ground  floor. 

I  glanced  up  in  the  direction  of  our  rooms 
and  noticed  that  my  party  were  standing  on 
the  balcony  outside  the  sitting-room.  I  could 
see  Kitty's  anxious  face.  But  she  need  have 
had  no  fear. 


296  The  Finished  Article 

Mr  Stridge  advanced  towards  me,  silk  hat  in 
hand.  Behind  him  stood  a  variety  of  Stone- 
leigh  worthies,  and  I  had  time  to  notice  that 
the  group  was  composed  of  an  indiscriminate 
mixture  of  friends  and  foes. 

"  Mr  Inglethwaite,  sir,"  said  Stridge,  "  I  should 
like  to  shake  you  by  the  hand." 

He  did  so,  as  did  a  few  of  those  immediately 
around  us,  in  perfect  silence.  I  wondered  what 
was  coming. 

"  That  is  all,  sir,"  said  Stridge  simply,  and  not 
without  a  certain  dignity.  "  We  shall  move  off 
now.  We  did  you  a  wrong  to-night,  and  we 
all  of  us  " — he  indicated  the  motionless  multitude 
with  a  sweep  of  his  hand  — "  agreed  to  come 
here  in  silence,  just  for  a  moment,  as  an  indi- 
cation of  our  sympathy  and — respect." 

I  was  unable  to  speak,  which  was  not  alto- 
gether surprising.  There  was  something  over- 
whelming about  the  dumb  kindness  of  it  all, — 
three  thousand  excited  folk  holding  themselves 
in  for  fear  of  disturbing  a  sick  child, — and  I 
merely  shook  Stridge's  hand  again. 

However,  I  found  my  voice  at  last. 

"  Mr  Stridge,"  I  said,  "  there  is  only  one  thing 
I  will  say  in  response  to  your  kindness,  but  I 
think  it  is  the  one  thing  most  calculated  to 


"Qui  perd,  gagne"  297 

reward  you  all  for  it.  To-night  rny  little  girl's 
illness  took  a  favourable  turn.  She  is  now  fast 
asleep,  and  practically  out  of  danger." 

I  saw  a  great  ripple  pass  over  the  crowd,  like 
a  breeze  over  a  cornfield,  as  the  news  sped  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  Both  Stridge's  great  hands 
were  on  my  shoulders. 

"  Good  lad  ! "  he  said.     "  Good  lad  ! " 

He  patted  my  shoulders  again,  and  then,  as 
if  struck  by  a  sudden  idea,  he  turned  and  whis- 
pered a  direction  to  his  lieutenants.  I  overheard 
the  words  "  Market  Square,"  and  "  A  good  half 
mile  away."  Once  more  the  wave  passed  over 
the  cornfield,  and  without  a  sound  the  great 
concourse  turned  to  the  left  and  streamed  away 
over  the  trampled  snow,  leaving  me  standing 
bareheaded  on  the  steps  of  the  French  window, 
almost  directly  below  the  spot  where  the  un- 
conscious little  object  of  all  this  consideration 
lay  fast  asleep. 

I  returned  to  the  group  on  the  balcony.  They 
had  heard  most  of  the  conversation,  and  Kitty 
was  unaffectedly  dabbing  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  let  us  get  in  out  of  the  cold,"  I  said, 
suddenly  cheerful  and  brisk.  "I  want  my 
supper." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Robin,  "  I  don't  think 


298  The  Finished  Article 

everything  is  quite  over  yet.  What  is  that  ? 
Listen ! " 

From  the  direction  of  the  Market  Square  came 
the  shouts  of  a  great  multitude.  Cheer  upon 
cheer  floated  up  to  the  starry  heavens.  The 
roars  that  had  greeted  the  declaration  of  the 
poll  were  nothing  to  these.  There  was  a  united 
ring  about  them  that  had  been  lacking  in  the 
others.  It  was  like  one  whole-hearted  many- 
headed  giant  letting  off  steam. 

"  A-a-h  ! "  said  Kitty. 


299 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN. 

IN    WHICH   ALL'S    RIGHT    WITH   THE    WORLD. 

AFTER   that   we   became   suddenly   conscious   of 
our  bodily  wants,  and  clamoured  for  supper. 

It  was  long  after  midnight,  and  most  of  the 
hotel  servants  had  gone  to  bed.  But  one  waiter 
of  political  leanings,  who  had  been  an  enthusi- 
astic witness  of  the  proceedings  in  the  Close, 
stood  by  us  nobly.  He  laid  a  table  in  the  sit- 
ting-room. He  materialised  a  cold  turkey,  a 
brown  loaf,  and  some  tomatoes ;  and  he  even 
achieved  table-napkins.  Gerald  and  Donkin  on 
their  part  disappeared  into  the  nether  regions, 
and  returned  bearing  mince  -  pies  and  cider. 
Some  one  else  found  champagne  and  opened 
it;  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  were  left 
to  ourselves  by  the  benignant  waiter  round  a 
comfortably  loaded  table,  in  a  snug  room  with 
the  fire  burning  and  the  curtains  drawn. 


300  The  Finished  Article 

It  was  an  eccentric  kind  of  meal,  for  every 
one  was  overflowing  with  a  sort  of  reactionary 
hilarity ;  and  everybody  called  everybody  else 
"  old  man "  or  "  my  dear,"  and  I  was  compelled 
to  manipulate  my  food  with  my  left  hand 
owing  to  the  fact  that  my  wife  insisted  on 
clinging  tightly  to  my  right.  The  only  times 
I  got  a  really  satisfactory  mouthful  were  when 
she  slipped  out  of  the  room  to  see  how  her 
daughter  was  sleeping. 

As  the  meal  progressed,  I  began  to  note  the 
exceedingly  domestic  and  intimate  manner  in 
which  we  were  seated  round  the  table,  which 
was  small  and  circular.  Kitty  and  I  sat  to- 
gether ;  then,  on  our  right,  came  Dicky  and 
Dilly,  then  Gerald  and  Donkin,  each  partially 
obscured  from  view  by  a  bottle  of  cider  about 
the  size  of  an  Indian  club ;  and  Dolly  and 
Robin  completed  the  circle. 

The  party  comported  themselves  variously. 
Kitty  and  I  said  little.  We  were  utterly 
tired  and  dumbly  thankful,  and  had  no  desire 
to  contribute  greatly  to  the  conversation  ;  but 
we  turned  and  looked  at  one  another  in  a  con- 
tented sort  of  way  at  times.  Dicky  and  Dilly 
were  still  sufficiently  newly  married  to  be  more 
or  less  independent  of  other  people's  society, 


All's  Right  with  the  World         301 

and  they  kept  up  a  continuous  undercurrent 
of  lover -like  confidences  and  playful  nothings 
all  the  time.  Gerald,  upon  whom  solid  food 
seemed  to  have  the  effect  that  undiluted  alcohol 
has  upon  ordinary  folk,  was  stentoriously  en- 
gaged with  Mr  Donkin  in  what  a  student  of 
Paleys  Evidences  would  have  described  as  "A 
Contest  of  Opposite  Improbabilities "  concerning 
his  election  experiences. 

Lastly,  I  turned  to  Dolly  and  Robin.  Dolly's 
splendid  vitality  has  stood  her  in  good  stead 
during  the  last  twenty -four  hours,  and  this, 
combined  with  the  present  flood -tide  of  joyous 
relief,  made  it  hard  to  believe  that  she  had 
spent  a  day  and  a  night  of  labour  and  anxiety. 
She  was  much  more  silent  than  usual,  but  her 
face  was  flushed  and  happy,  and  somehow  I 
was  reminded  of  the  time  when  I  had  watched 
her  greeting  the  dawn  on  the  morning  after 
Dilly's  wedding.  Kobin,  with  the  look  of  a 
man  who  has  a  hard  day's  work  behind  him, 
a  full  meal  inside  him,  and  a  sound  night's 
sleep  before  him — and  what  three  greater  bless- 
ings could  a  man  ask  for  himself? — sat  beside 
her,  smiling  largely  and  restfully  on  the  com- 
pany around  him. 

Suddenly  Dicky  made  an  announcement. 


302  The  Finished  Article 

"There  is  one  more  bottle,"  he  said.  "Come 
on,  let's  buzz  it !  " 

He  opened  the  champagne  in  a  highly  pro- 
fessional manner  and  filled  up  our  glasses. 
Gerald  and  Donkin  declined,  but  helped  them- 
selves to  fresh  jorums  of  cider. 

Then  there  was  a  little  pause,  and  we  all 
felt  that  some  one  ought  to  make  a  speech 
or  propose  a  toast. 

"  Shall  we  drink  some  healths  ?  "  proposed  Dilly. 

There  was  a  chorus  of  assent. 

"  We  will  each  propose  one,"  I  said,  "  right 
round  the  table  in  turn.  Ladies  first !  Yours, 
Kitty?  I  suppose  it  will  be  Philly— eh?" 

Kitty  nodded. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I  announced,  "  you 
are  asked  to  drink  to  the  speedy  recovery  of 
Miss  Phillis  Inglethwaite.  This  toast  is  proposed 
by  her  mother,  and  seconded  by  her  father," 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  all  sincerity,  but 
soberly,  as  befitted. 

"Now,   Dilly,"  I  said,  when  we   were   ready 


again. 


Dilly  whispered  something  to  her  husband, 
which  was  received  by  that  gentleman  with  a 
modest  and  deprecatory  cough,  coupled  with 
an  urgent  request  that  his  wife  would  chuck  it. 


All's  Right  with  the  World         303 

"  He  won't  announce  my  toast  for  me,"  ex- 
plained Dilly,  turning  to  us — "he's  too  shy, 
poor  dear ! — so  I'll  do  it  myself.  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  the  toast  is — Dicky  !  " 

Dicky's  health  was  drunk  with  cheers  and 
laughter,  and  Dilly  completed  its  subject's  con- 
fusion by  kissing  him. 

"  Now,  Dolly  ! "  said  every  one. 

"  Not  yet ! "  said  Dolly.  "  Gerald  and  Moke 
are  the  next  pair.  Gerald  must  act  lady,  and 
think  of  a  toast." 

Master  Gerald,  hastily  bolting  a  solid  mass 
of  mince-pie — one  could  almost  follow  the  course 
of  its  descent — cheerfully  complied. 

"All  right,"  he  said;  "I  think  I'll  drink 
the  health  of  old  Moke  himself.  He's  not 
much  to  look  at,  but  he's  a  good  sort.  I 
shan't  kiss  him,  though,  Dilly.  And,"  he 
added,  "  I  think  he  had  better  drink  mine 
too.  He  looks  thirsty.  Come  on,  sonny — no 
heeltaps ! " 

He  elaborately  linked  arms  with  the  now 
comatose  Donkin,  and  each  thereupon  absorbed, 
without  drawing  breath,  about  a  pint  of  cider 
apiece.  After  that,  with  a  passing  admonition 
to  his  friend  not  to  burst,  my  brother-in-law 
returned  to  his  repast. 


304  The  Finished  Article 

So  far,  the  toasts  had  all  been  of  a  most 
conventional  and  inevitable  character.  Now, 
automatically  but  a  little  tactlessly,  we  all 
turned  to  see  what  Dolly  and  Robin  were 
going  to  do.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  last 
two  toasts  they  were  certainly  in  a  rather 
delicate  position. 

"  Come  on,  you  two ! "  commanded  Gerald. 
"  Do  something  !  Make  a  spring ! " 

Robin  took  up  his  glass  of  champagne  and 
turned  rather  inquiringly  to  Dolly. 

Without  a  word  she  linked  her  arm  in  his, 
and  they  drank  together. 

"  Oh,  come,  I  say,  that's  not  fair !  Whose 
health  were  you  drinking,  Robin,  old  man  ? " 
inquired  the  tactless  Dicky. 

"  I  was  drinking  to  the  future  Mrs  Fordyce 
— whoever  she  may  be ! "  said  Robin,  obviously 
apologetic  at  being  unable  to  think  of  anything 
more  sparkling. 

"Whose  health  were  you  drinking,  Dolly?" 
yelled  Gerald,  with  much  enjoyment. 

Then  Dolly  did  a  startling  thing. 

Robin's  hand  lay  resting  on  the  table  beside 
her.  Into  it  she  deliberately  slipped  her  own ; 
and  then  gazed — flushed  and  defiant,  but  proud 
and  smiling — round  a  circle  composed  entirely 


All's  Right  with  the  World         305 

of  faces  belonging  to  people  suffering  from  the 
gapes. 

I  glanced  at  Robin.  He  looked  perfectly 
dumfounded,  but  I  saw  his  hand  close  auto- 
matically round  Dolly's  fingers,  and  I  saw,  too, 
her  pink  nails  go  white  under  the  pressure. 

But  Dolly  seemed  to  feel  no  pain.  On  the 
contrary,  she  continued  to  smile  upon  us.  Then, 
bowing  her  head  quickly,  before  any  of  us  real- 
ised what  she  would  be  at,  she  lightly  kissed 
the  great  hand  which  imprisoned  her  own.  Then 
she  looked  up  again,  with  glistening  eyes. 

"  There ! "  she  said.     "  Now  you  know ! " 

Our  breath  came  back,  and  the  spellbound 
silence  was  broken. 

"Dolly!"  said  Kitty. 

"My  dear!"  said  Dilly. 

"  What— ho  ! "  drawled  Dicky. 

But  it  was  Gerald  who  rounded  off  the  situa- 
tion. He  was  standing  on  the  table  by  this 
time. 

"Three  cheers  for  Dolly  and  Robin!"  he 
roared. 

We  gave  them,  with  full  throats.  (Fortun- 
ately we  were  a  long  way  from  Phillis's  room.) 

After  that  we  all  sat  down  again,  feeling  a 
little  awkward,  as  people  do  when  they  have 

u 


306  The  Finished  Article 

taken   the   lid   off  their   private    feelings   for   a 
moment..    Finally  Kitty  led  off  with— 

"But,  Dolly,  dear,  why  didn't  you  tell  us? 
When  was  it  ? " 

"I  didn't  tell  you  before,"  said  Dolly  com- 
posedly, "  because  it  has  only  just  happened— 
this  moment." 

"  Only  this  moment?     But " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  hasn't  asked  you  ? 
Oh " 

"  Are  you  asking  him  f  " 

The  questions  came  simultaneously  from  all 
parts  of  the  table;  horribly  inquisitive,  some  of 
them  ;  but  then  the  thing  had  been  so  frankly  and 
deliberately  done,  that  we  knew  Dolly  wanted  to 
explain  everything  to  us  there  and  then. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Dolly,  after  silence  had 
been  restored  by  the  fact  that  Gerald  had 
shouted  us  all  down  and  then  stopped  himself. 
"  Robin  told  me — well — something,  six  months 
ago,  the  night  after  Dilly's  wedding,  at  the 
dance — 

"  That  was  why  you  locked  the  door,  then," 
I  said  involuntarily. 

Both  Robin  and  Dolly  turned  upon  me  in  real 
amazement.  But  I  saw  that  this  side-issue  would 
interrupt  the  story. 


All's  Right  with  the  World         307 

"  Never  mind ! "  I  said.  "  Go  on  !  I'll  explain 
afterwards." 

"Well,"  continued  Dolly,  "he  said  to  me— 
may  I  tell  them,  Robin?"  She  turned  to  the 
man  beside  her  with  a  pretty  air  of  deference. 
Robin,  who  up  to  this  point  had  sat  like  a 
graven  image,  inclined  his  head,  and  Dolly 
proceeded — 

"  I  have  never  told  anybody  about  this — except 
Dilly,  of  course." 

"  I've  got  the  letter  still,"  said  Dilly. 

"Robin  told  me,"  Dolly  went  on,  "that  he 
wasn't  going  to  ask  me  to  marry  him  at  present, 
because  he  had  some  childish  idea — it  is  perfectly 
idiotic  to  think  of;  but — he  thought  he  wasn't 
quite — well,  good  enough  for  me!" 

"What  rot!"  said  Dicky. 

"  Muck  ! "  observed  Gerald. 

"But  he  said  that  he  would  ask  me  properly 
later  on,  as  soon  as  he  considered  that  he  was 
good  enough,"  continued  Dolly.  "And  as  he 
still  seems  to  think,"  she  concluded  with  more 
animation,  "  that  he  is  not  quite  up  to  standard, 
it  occurred  to  me  to-night,  as  we  were  all  here 
in  a  jolly  little  party,  to  notify  him  that  he  is. 
So  I  did.  That's  all.  Robin,  you  are  hurting 
my  hand ! " 


308  The  Finished  Article 

Robin  relaxed  his  grip  at  last,  and  remorse- 
fully surveyed  the  bloodless  fingers  that  lay  in 
his  palm.  Then,  with  a  rather  shamefaced  look 
all  round  the  table,  as  much  as  to  say — "  I  should 
like  fine  to  restrain  myself  from  doing  this  before 
you  all,  but  I  can't!" — he  bent  his  head  and 
kissed  them  in  his  turn. 

And  that  was  how  Robin  and  Dolly  plighted 
their  troth  at  last — openly,  without  shame,  and 
for  all  to  see. 

Robin  and  I  lingered  at  the  turning  of  a 
passage,  lit  only  by  our  two  flickering  bedroom 
candles. 

"  Well,  we  can't  complain  of  having  had  an 
uneventful  day,"  I  said. 

"  I'm  sorry  we  didn't  scrape  other  twenty- 
eight  votes,"  said  Robin  characteristically. 

"  Never  mind !  "  I  said.  "  I  shall  be  none  the 
worse  of  a  holiday  for  a  year  or  two.  If  you 
will  kindly  take  Dolly  off  our  hands  as  quickly 
as  possible " — he  caught  his  breath  at  that — 
"  Kitty  and  I  and  Phillis  will  go  a  trip  round 
the  world  together.  Then  I'll  come  home  and 
fight  a  by-election,  perhaps." 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  Robin,  "  you  will  be  having 
no  further  need  of  a  private  secretary." 


All's  Right  with  the  World        309 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  I  said.  The  fact  had  been 
tugging  at  my  conscience  for  the  last  two  hours. 
"And  that  raises  another  question.  What  are 
you  two  going  to  live  on  ? " 

"  Champion  wants  me,"  said  Robin.  "  He  has 
offered  me  the  post  of  Secretary  to  that  Royal 
Commission  of  which  he  has  been  appointed 
Chairman.  It  is  a  fine  opening." 

"I  should  think  it  was!"  I  said  with  whole- 
hearted joy.  "Good  luck  to  you,  Robin!" 

"  Thank  you  ! "  said  Robin.  "  Still,"  he  added, 
as  he  turned  to  go,  "I  wish  I  could  have  found 
you  twenty-eight  more  votes." 

"Between  ourselves,"  I  said,  "I  don't  mind 
very  much.  I  am  not  the  right  man  for  this 
constituency.  It  has  outgrown  me.  I  have  not 
the  knack  of  handling  a  big  crowd.  What  I 
want  is  a  fine  old  crusted  uiiprogressive  seat, 
where  I  shan't  constantly  be  compelled  to  drop 
my  departmental  work  and  rush  down  to  pro- 
pitiate my  supporters  with  untruthful  harangues. 
I'm  a  square  peg  here.  Now,  if  they  had  wanted 
a  really  fit  and  proper  candidate  for  this  Parlia- 
mentary Division,  Robin,  they  ought  to  have 
approached  you" 

"Och!"  said  Robin  carelessly,  "they  did— a 
month  ago  !  Good  night !  " 


3io 


CHAPTER   EIGHTEEN. 

A  PROPHET   IN   HIS   OWN   COUNTRY. 

AN  old  woman  in  a  white  mutch  stands  at  the 
door  of  a  farmhouse  in  a  Scottish  glen.  Her 
face  is  wrinkled,  and  her  dim  eyes  are  peering 
down  the  track  which  leads  from  the  steading 
to  the  pasture.  Being  apparently  unable  to 
focus  what  she  wants  to  see  she  adjusts  a  pair 
of  spectacles. 

This  action  brings  into  her  range  of  vision  a 
distant  figure  which  is  engaged  in  shepherding 
a  herd  of  passive  but  resisting  cows  through 
a  gap  in  the  dyke.  It  is  a  slow  business,  but 
the  procession  gradually  nears  home ;  and  when 
the  man  at  the  helm  succeeds  in  steering  his 
sauntering  charges  safely  between  the  Scylla 
of  a  hay-rick  and  the  Chary bdis  of  the  burn, 
the  old  lady  takes  off  her  spectacles  and  relaxes 
her  vigilance. 

When   she   looks    again,    though,    she    breaks 


A  Prophet  in  his  own  Country     311 

into  an  exclamation  of  dismay.  The  leaders 
of  the  straggling  procession  have  safely  reached 
the  door  of  the  byre  close  by;  but  one  frisky 
young  cow,  suddenly  swerving  through  an  open 
gate,  breaks  away  down  a  sloping  field  of  turnips 
at  a  lumbering  gallop.  The  herdsman  is  out  of 
sight  round  a  bend  in  the  road. 

"  The  feckless  body ! "  observes  the  old  lady 
bitterly.  Then  she  raises  her  voice. 

"  Elspeth  ! " 

A  reply  comes  from  within  the  dairy. 

"  Ay,  mem  ? " 

"You'll  need  tae  leave  the  butter  and  help 
Master  Robert.  He's  no  hand  with  the  kye. 
He's  let  Heatherbell  intill  the  neeps.  And  the 
maister  is  away  at " 

With  a  muffled  "  Maircy  me  !"  a  heated  young 
woman  shoots  out  of  a  side  door  and  proceeds  at 
the  double  to  the  assistance  of  the  incompetent 
cow-herd. 

At  length  the  animals  are  rounded  up  into 
the  byre,  and  Elspeth  proceeds  with  the  milking. 

Meanwhile  Master  Robert,  "  the  feckless 
body,"  stands  in  a  rather  apprehensive  attitude 
before  the  old  lady.  He  is  a  huge  man  of  about 
forty -five.  He  is  clean -shaven,  and  he  has 
humorous  grey  eyes  and  dark  hair.  Despite 


312  The  Finished  Article 

his  homespun  attire,  he  looks  more  like  a 
leader  of  men  than  a  driver  of  cattle. 

"  Robin  Fordyce,"  says  the  old  lady  severely, 
"what  garred  ye  loose  Heatherbell  in  among 
the  neeps. 

"  I'm  sorry,  mother.  But  I  met  Jean 
M'Taggart  in  the  road,  and — we  stopped  for 
a  bit  crack." 

The  old  lady  surveys  her  son  witheringly  over 
her  glasses. 

"  Dandering  wi'  Jean  M'Taggart  at  your  time 
of  life  !  I'll  sort  Jean  M'Taggart  when  I  see  her. 
It's  jist  like  her  tae  try  and  draw  a  lad  from  his 
duty.  And  you !  A  married  man  these  fifteen 
years !  'Deed,  and  it's  time  yon  lady  wife  of 
yours  cam'  here  from  London,  tae  pit  a  hand 
on  you." 

The  big  man's  penitent  face  lights  up  with 
sudden  enthusiasm. 

"She  is  coming  to-morrow!"  he  roars  exult- 
antly. 

"  Aye,  you  may  pretend  tae  be  glad !  But 
she  shall  hear  aboot  Jean  M'Taggart  all  the 
same,"  replies  the  old  lady. 

This,  of  course,  is  a  tremendous  joke,  and 
the  inquisition  is  suspended  while  mother  and 
sou  chuqkle  deeply  at  the  idea  of  Dolly's  des- 


A  Prophet  in  his  own  Country     313 

perate  jealousy.  Suddenly  Mrs  Fordyce  breaks 
off  to  ask  a  question. 

"  Did  ye  mind  tae  shut  the  gate  of  the  west 
field?" 

Kobin  thinks,  and  then  raises  clenched  hands 
to  heaven  in  an  agony  of  remorse. 

His  mother  groans  in  a  resigned  sort  of  way. 

"  Run ! "  she  says,  "  or  yell  hae  all  the  sheep 
oot  in  the  road !  Get  them  back,  and  I'll  no' 
tell  David  on  ye ! " 

Her  son  bounds  away  down  the  slope,  but 
a  further  command  pursues  him. 

"  An'  come  back  soon !  I'll  no'  be  getting 
you  tae  mysel'  over  much  after — to-morrow  ! " 

She  sits  down  again  in  her  chair  outside  the 
door  in  the  afternoon  sun ;  for  she  is  getting 
infirm  now,  and  cannot  stand  up  for  long. 
With  an  indulgent  sigh  she  surveys  the  flying 
figure  of  the  Right  Honourable  Sir  Robert 
Chalmers  Fordyce,  Privy  Councillor  and  Sec- 
retary of  State,  as  he  frantically  endeavours 
to  overtake  and  head  off  three  staid  ewes, 
who,  having  strayed  through  the  open  gate, 
have  just  decided  upon  a  walking  excursion  to 
London. 

"  A  good  lad ! "  she  murmurs  contentedly. 
"A  good  lad,  and  a  good  son;  and  dae'n'  weel. 


314  The  Finished  Article 

But — he's  no'  just  David.     It  was  always  David 
that  had  the  heid  on  him." 


A  prophet,  we  know,  has  no  honour  in  his 
own  country.  Fortunately  some  prophets  pre- 
fer that  this  should  be  the  case. 


THE    END. 


BT  WII.TJAM  BLACKWOOn  AFT  SOW! 


A    000  1 29  543    5 


